D&D Way to Sword Coast
by Tactalorian
Summary: This is the story of Alidorim Ulkith, a Dragonborn warrior. For his draconic appearance, he's feared, but for his strength he's respected. He shuns most of civilization as he seeks out his fortune along the Sword Coast. An opportunity arises when he learns of a job in Neverwinter. The Dragonborn has but one problem; her name is Yulia. She's a Tiefling...and only 5 years old...
1. Prologue

**Dungeons & Dragons**

**Lost Mine of Phandelver**

**By R. P. Matthews**

**Prologue:**

The thunder that was not thunder robbed the world of its innocence and brought silence to the village. Rolling grey clouds erupted in red fury bathing great swaths in a burning nightmare. There was no escaping the malicious gaze of the heavens. There was no surviving the gnashing jaws of hell. Yet it was a parent's duty to try...for their child's sake...

The air was filled with screams choked by smoke. Their eyes stung from heat and terror. The child's throat itched as it breathed putrid air. Their stomachs churned at the scent of things burning that should never burn. In a single moment, everything the child had ever known was reduced to ashes and cinder.

The family passed a trio of bodies sprawled outside the hovel that had been their home. One was too tiny to be an adult. They could've been the baker's family as much as the cobbler's; the bodies were to blacken and burned to tell. "Mama," the child whined.

"Look away!" mother commanded forcing the child's face deeper into her singed cloak. "Everything'll be alright!" The child wanted to believe her, but fear etched every syllable. More tears streamed down the child's face as all it could smell was burnt hair and cooked meat.

"Almost there!" Papa yelled drawing them down a side street. It seemed like a lifetime ago only happiness had filled his voice. Now his face was a twisted rictus of desperation. The child wondered if papa would ever laugh the way he had before.

A sweep of massive leathery wings shifted the air. Debris and rubble were caught up in the beast's passage, peppering the fleeing family. Screams were lost in the maelstrom, including the child's.

"Everything'll be alright!" mama said voice cracking under the strain. "Everything will be alright!" The child wanted desperately to believe her, but intense heat only served to dry the moisture on their face.

"This way!" Papa shouted. He lifted a fallen beam that barred their path. Muscles strained as he hefted wood and stone so that his wife and child could pass. Through the sweat and fear, the child's father offered up a waning smile.

Then the air shifted again, and mama was thrown forward narrowly avoiding landing on her child. Face still buried in mama's shawl, all the child heard was the cracking of wood and stone amidst the torrent of wind. The only thing louder was mama's keening wail of anguish.

Looking up where once papa had stood leading them to safety was now a pile of shattered masonry. Only a single bloody hand protruded from the wreckage.

"Papa!" the child called out trying frantically to get to him only to be yanked back by mama.

"Look away!" she sobbed, tears carving furrows on her dust-coated cheeks. Clutching the child tighter as she rose and hurried away. The child's last memory of papa was the bloody appendage hanging limply in the air. No more smiles...No more laughter...

Mama stumbled but pressed onward through the chaos. She gasped and limped beneath the weight of her offspring. Behind them, the child saw a trail of crimson reflecting the firelight. Mama was hurt.

"Mama?" the child wined again in concern.

"Almost there," she gasped through a clenched jaw, "Everything'll be alright."

The wind shifted again, and the air was torn asunder by a great billowing roar. It was as if fear itself was carried on the wind and struck them like a fist. The pair were slammed to the ground. Mama cried out in pain as the child squealed in terror.

"I'm right here!" she called out cradling the child to her breast. "I'm right here!" Though she spoke to the child her eyes cast about in search of something. They widened, a glimmer of hope filling them when they spotted the cellar door. "Everything'll be alright!" she said. Clinging anxiously to the small bundle in her arms mama crawled over to the entrance, dragging her injured leg.

Another blast of wind accompanied by a heart-stopping roar split the air.

Mama looked over her shoulder and horror dawned on her once beautiful features. Gripping the handle, she flung the doors open and lowered the child inside. Hastily she nestled the child amongst stacks of supplies. The child looked up expectantly only to find the doors to the cellar being closed.

"Mama?"

"Everything'll be alright," she said smiling despite the tears and fear in her voice. Behind her, the street lit up like the sun. It was so bright and hot the child had to shield their eyes. "Everything'll be alright," were her final words as the door sealed. The child was lost in blackness. The darkness was punctuated only by the ribbons of flame curling around the edge of the door.

The child heard no more screams, only the dull rumble of thunder that was not thunder stealing the innocence of a life not fully realized.

Mama said everything would be alright...but all the child could do...was cry...


	2. Chapter 1 Encounter

**Part 1: The Journey**

**Chapter One: Encounter**

Swamps... Alidorim hated swamps. He hated everything about swamps; the heat and humidity that made it feel like he was inhaling soup; the sucking mud that caused every meter to feel like a mile; the putrid water that seeped beneath his armor; and the swarms of insects that bit and stung at any exposed portion of his scaly hide. Yet here he was, deep in the Evermoores, searching for black mushrooms of all things.

As he struggled to yank his clawed foot out of the quagmire for the umpteenth time, he couldn't help but wonder if the payout was really worth the effort. At the time one-hundred silver for a quick fetch and carry job seemed like child's play. The job lost some of its novelty when the client mentioned that the mushrooms only grew on the northern faces of rocks and trees near caves. According to the client, the closest cave formations were a half days journey west of the city.

Half a candle-mark after receiving the cave's location he was trudging through the wilderness. The task had gotten less and less enjoyable with each step. It got to the point he was operating on pure stubborn determination. Alidorim had already committed so much time and energy to the job he might as well see it through to the end. The client had even offered to amend the purse with an additional fifty silver pieces for every extra kilogram of mushrooms he obtained on top of the two already agreed upon.

Alidorim Ulkith; proud Dragonborn Adventurer reduced to slogging through swamps filled with mold laced air in order to pick mushrooms for chump change.

"All so he can cook a goulash," the Dragonborn growled in frustration. "It had better be a damn fine goulash." As part of the payment, Alidorim would receive a portion of the prized meal. His stomach rumbled at the thought. A proper meal would do wonders for his morale.

He had to admit the smell of the bog hadn't been nearly so bad inside the city, but outside...? It was a challenge just to keep from gagging at the scent of stagnant water, rotting undergrowth, and the ever-present dank moldy undertone of every breeze.

The balmy swamps of the Evermoore were littered with rancid bogs, mudflats, and algae choked lakes. The lakes were dotted with Islands teeming with turfs of fungi and spores, and guarded lairs of dangerous local wildlife.

Worst of all was the humidity. His linens were soaked within minutes of stepping outside the city, and the moisture was starting to seep into the padded lining of his armor. He was grateful for the well-tanned leather shed most of the liquid, but that fact did little to comfort him as he struggled to breathe. Each breath was a strain on his lungs. The thick damp air was bad enough but coupled with the exertion of just walking it sounded like he was in a constant state of near asphyxiation.

Now he was wading through water and mud that ranged from passable to nearly waist-deep. It wasn't long before every piece of his armor and the crimson scales beneath were soaked. A horse would've reduced his fatigue, but it turned out the everglades outside Everlund were so dense as to make use of any steed impractical. He was as likely to drown the beast as himself.

The trip to the caves took just over ten candle-marks, though judging from the heavy breathing it sounded like he'd been traveling for days. As motivated as he was to be away from the swamp it was more likely he'd have to make camp. Alidorim did not relish the thought of spending even a single night in the Evermoores.

As he made his way up onto the banks of a lake, the Dragonborn noticed a cliff face with several small, half meter-high openings. Burrows; long vacated. The clearing was large and hilly, with only a dozen trees scattered over a fifty meter by fifty-meter area. The area matched the client's description almost perfectly. Alidorim searched the region surrounding the abandoned burrows for the black mushrooms. In very short order, he was able to find a decent amount of the pungent truffle. In total, he was able to harvest about five kilograms.

As he secured the bounty in his pack, Alidorim allowed himself a small satisfied smile. Despite being exhausted and soaked to the scales he managed to achieve his goal. He actually stood a chance to turn a decent profit. Maybe even enough to get him to the coast.

Looking up he figured he could make a few miles before making camp; fates willing.

Just then a chill ran up Alidorim's spine causing his hackles to rise.

The ever-present chirps and gurgles of the swamp, which had plagued him as much as the humidity and smells had the entire day, faded away until all was quiet. Alidorim's senses were on high alert as he scanned the dense foliage for any sign of what had affected the local ecology. "Something isn't right."

Instincts told him that the only time wildlife went still and silent was in the presence of hungry predators. It seemed he was not the only creature on the hunt.

Some bushes off to his right shifted. His hand flew to his back sword as a brown-furred creature leaped into view. Alidorim froze just as his fingers grasped the handle. The meter-long swamp fox leaned back on its haunches and stared up at the Dragonborn with complete insolence.

Ulkith growled in annoyance before releasing the weapon. He returned the impertinent stare with a glare of his own. The swamp fox growled threateningly, but the show only makes Alidorim chuckle. "You have a stout heart, pup," he said shaking his head. The fox wasn't having it though. It went to all fours, hackles raised, and teeth bared. Did this creature really think he stood a chance? Placing his hands on his hips the Dragonborn looked down his snout at the misguided beast. "Know your limits pup!" But the fox didn't back down. Its jaws parted as it issued several loud barks.

Sighing Alidorim reached for the long knife at his waist. If the fox was so eager, the Dragonborn would oblige its recklessness. The fur would fetch some coin at least and could use the meat. He was prepared to end the animal's defiance when he became aware of another presence. It was accompanied by the sloshing sound of displaced water and of leathery skin sliding on mud. As he turned back toward the lake's edge Ulkith grasped that the fox hadn't been the predator he should've been looking for.

"Just not my day."

The Dragonborn found himself face to face with five meters of scales, teeth, and muscle. A pair of glossy back eyes the size of a child's skull stared at him with pure territorial outrage. A low threatening gurgle rolled up out of its throat. Alidorim froze. He knew any sudden movement on his part would cause the creature to attack. Even though its four legs were short, Alidorim could tell they were capable of propelling the beast forward at tremendous speeds.

The alligator was nearly 500 kilograms of solid muscle, most of that being in its tail. A glancing shot from the appendage would incapacitate him if not kill him outright. He had to be smart and think fast lest he-

-The swamp fox jumped forward barring its teeth and barking. 'Damn you!' The predator's jaws moved with shocking speed, but the fox was faster, leaping to the side and snarling in a challenge. Unfortunately, that placed Alidorim directly in its line of sight. The Dragonborn leaped backward as the alligator's jaws snapped again. Oh, how he wished he had a ranged weapon.

Ulkith drew his sword and slashed downward scoring a shallow cut along the side of the beast's snout. Distressingly it barely seemed to phase the alligator as it lunged once more. The Dragonborn tucked and rolled narrowly dodging the attack. He barely had time to think when the large reptile attacked again and again. On its next attack, Alidorim ducked behind one of the trees only to have its jaws close around the trunk. He snarled as one of its teeth stabbed into his left arm.

Alidorim dipped and dove just as the alligator's massive head twisted, ripping the tree out of the soft earth. As the beast flailed the chunk of foliage, he heard a yelp of pain but was too distracted to pinpoint its location.

As the beast rolled its head side to side Alidorim noticed the fleshy sack just behind alligator's jaws. Unlike the rest of its hide, this section flexed and expanded like a wineskin.

"Here!" Ulkith roared brandishing both his weapons. The alligator turned its attention back toward the bothersome Dragonborn. Dropping the tree, it stalked toward him, growling and hissing as it went.

Alidorim's claws dug into the soil as he flexed his legs. He would have to time his movements perfectly. Too late and the jaws would eviscerate his body. Too early and he was just as likely to get crushed by the tail.

The alligator lunged at the same time Alidorim moved. Launching forward, he twisted and was past the beast's snout. As the jaws snapped closed on air, he circled the head and raised his sword in a stabbing strike. The blade sank half its length into the soft flesh before the pain registered. The alligator gasped in surprise. Snarling Ulkith jammed the sword all the way to the hilt. The alligator reared howling in pain. Releasing the weapon Alidorim backpedaled just enough to avoid the creature's thrashing. Its massive tail whipping about, snapping another two trees at the trunk. It rolled over and over in an attempt to dislodge the thing that was hurting it.

After moments that felt like an eternity the alligator's movement slowed. It attempted to crawl back to the comfort of the lake. Flanks heaving it slumped to the churned earth. Giving one last galvanic kick the giant reptile finally went still. Alidorim gave it another quarter mark before wearily approaching the animal. Judging by the sheer volume of blood puddling about its head, the Dragonborn surmised it was most certainly dead.

Locating his weapon Ulkith cursed. He had to work it back and forth several times before it finally came free. The pommel was lost, and the handle had been cracked during the beast's struggle. It was a relief that the blade itself was still intact. The pommel and grip were going to be expensive enough to replace. So much for turning a profit.

Behind him, he heard a weak whimper of pain. Turning he found the swamp fox amidst the shattered remains of the first uprooted tree. Its forelimbs kicked feebly while its hindlegs remained still. Though it continued to whine it was incapable of even lifting its head to look at the Dragonborn. It was already struggling to even breathe.

The brave fox had fought well outside its class and had suffered for it. Poor deluded creature. Hefting his long knife, Alidorim sighed in mild reluctance. "Just not your day, pup."


	3. Chapter 2 Tavern

**Chapter 2: Tavern**

"Twenty silvers is the best I can do," The merchant stated. His tone was apologetic, but his demeanor was firm. Alidorim growled low in his throat but managed to temper his frustration. That was barely a third of what a good fox pelt would garner. The portly human had already explained that due to their muted coloring and small sizes, swamp foxes were simply not highly sought-after.

Sighing the Dragonborn accepted the offer. He guessed he should've been grateful the merchant was even dealing with him. The last one, at first sight, fled into his storage room, while the one before that had refused him service altogether.

Once he pocketed the currency, Olkith produced the next batch of items to sell. He'd learned long ago from a shrewd gnome that you never showed your full hand. By selling one treasure at a time he stood to gain more rather than losing its true value in a lump sum.

The merchant actually looked fascinated as he picked up one of the alligators' teeth. It was as long as his thumb. The beast hadn't any need for them and Alidorim would be damned if he allowed the encounter to be in vain. He had to take advantage of every opportunity to earn coin if he ever hoped to make it to Neverwinter.

"How much for these?"

The man didn't answer right away. First, he organized the teeth by size before examining each one as closely as the first. As the scrutiny unfurled, he kept up a mumbled commentary, noting the cleanliness of the teeth and lack of fractures. Olkith stood by patiently.

"I can do..." the merchant's finger tapped the largest of the teeth as he stared toward the heavens. "Three gold for the lot."

Which meant he could actually do four. Alidorim had dealt with many merchants. They were always thinking in terms of trade and resale value. They had to earn back what they invested and maintain a living. He could've haggled, maybe even offer to take the teeth elsewhere. Thinking of the previous merchants there was no way to be certain he'd find another who'd be willing to deal with his kind.

With another growl, he nodded. At least he had enough to get his weapon repaired. Whatever profit the mushrooms fetched Alidorim would need every coin in order to restock supplies.

Payment in hand, he bade the merchant farewell, before locating a blacksmith. After depositing his weapon for repair with the smithy he headed to his ultimate destination; the village tavern which also doubled as an Inn. Others who shared in his trade would be there, but also many of the local citizenry. Alidorim wasn't looking forward to encountering either.

The crowd parted before him as he made his way to the building. There were murmurs of fear and curiosity, but none dared meet his eye. For many, he might've been the first Dragonborn they'd ever seen. They were certainly thin on the ground that far north. Gods, he could count the number of his kin he'd met since leaving Tymanther on one hand.

The thick wooden door groaned open at his touch and closed just as soon as he'd crossed the threshold. As always, or rather as befitting any local watering hole, the heads of every occupant turned towards the new arrival. Leary gazes cautiously scanned over his armored body from his clawed feet to the arming sword on his back. They lingered on his draconic appearance. While he wasn't the only non-human in the crowd, he was certainly the only one of his species.

"Wonderful."

Normally Alidorim's scales shown crimson in direct sunlight, but in low light, they appeared as dark as his muted armor. This would cause his amber eyes to shine with golden brilliance. The stark contrast would only draw more attention, of which he appalled.

Stepping down a short flight of stairs into the tavern's shadowy common room, Alidorim made his way through the crowd toward the bar. The building was in a typical layout. On a dais against the far wall, a humanoid female danced to an off-key band. Private booths line the walls, and the main floor was scattered with tables and chairs, nearly all of which were occupied by those seeking an early buzz. The bartender paused in his chores to stare at him, his craggy bearded features going for intimidating but ending up just short of an ugly sneer.

The patron's attention slowly drifted back towards the dancer or their drinks. Alidorim couldn't help but think that more than a few were keeping him in the periphery of their vision.

Ignoring them he gestured for the barmaid. "What can I help you with?" the human asked pleasantly. She didn't seem to care that she was addressing a Dragonborn that outsized her by several feet and hundreds of pounds. To her, Alidorim was just another customer.

"I'm here to see the Reeve," he stated, placing the sack of mushrooms on the counter.

The woman nodded. "Sure thing. What's the name I should tell him?"

Before Olkith could answer the dwarven bartender swept in. "Off with ya!" he barked, causing the woman to scurry off. The dwarf crossed his arms and glared up at the Dragonborn. "Don't want your kind here scaly." He practically spat the last word. The slur was one he'd heard before. Alidorim had been called a lot worse and he couldn't help but be reminded of the impertinent swamp fox.

"The Reeve," he repeated staring down at the belligerent dwarf. "Once I've seen him, I'll be on my way."

"Ya dragon spawned bastard," a second, much deeper voice called out. Turning he saw a large male with grey skin adorned with tattoos. "Ya don't give orders 'round here," the goliath added with a malicious grin. The dragon comparison stoked Olkith's ire, but he refused to rise to the bait.

"Ya hear that?" The dwarf chimed in a bit more arrogantly. "Go. By yer own two feet or at the point of a sword, your choice."

A growl rumbled deep in his chest, loud enough to be heard. It was an effort to keep his words on an even tone. "Not until I'm paid what I'm owed."

"Stuff that!" the bartender barked jerking his chin towards the goliath and a number of other patrons who'd risen to join in the fun.

"C'mon scaly," the large man goaded, beckoning him forward with one massive hand. "Not scared of us, are you?" Clenching the hand into a fist he took a step forward. "Show me what ya got!"

"Hold!" Snapped a heavy commanding voice. The entire tavern went silent in an instant. Even the music and dancer stopped. A middle-aged man with a barrel chest and an impressive gut stood atop the stares looking down upon the crowd. The barmaid from earlier stood next to him. Dressed in a mix of adventurer's gear and the finery of nobility the man could only be one person.

"Reeve," the dwarf sputtered, "dragon-spawn can't be trusted."

"I'm not addressing you!" The Dwarf gaped a few times before falling silent. Alidorim's client descended the stairs before sweeping his way through the crowd to stand before the Dragonborn. "I apologize for my man's interference in our meeting." The Reeve glared hard at the goliath. "hopefully his attitude will improve after losing a day's wage."

The large grey man began to protest but quickly adopted a different tact. "Apologies sir." He even had the decency to look chastened as he directed the other onlookers away.

Alidorim turned back to his client who in turn addressed the bartender. "Drink for my friend here, and one for me." The dwarf planted his feet and crossed his arm. He started to jut his chin in defiance when the Reeve's hand struck the table. "I am addressing you now!" Looking appropriately cowed the bartender beat a retreat to the nearby stack of steins. After filling two he set them on the counter and waited. The Reeve stared one last warning before looking at his guest. "Would you like some food?" he asked in almost as pleasant a tone as the barmaid.

Keeping his eagerness in check, Alidorim nodded. Despite having eaten his fill of fox on the return journey he wasn't about to turn away a free meal. The dwarf, with an air of martyred patience, brought out a platter filled with bread, a hunk of cheese, and a slab of salted poultry. After weeks of trail rations, the meal was practically a banquet. Despite his hunger, Olkith let it sit.

Sensing the Dragonborn's intention, the Reeve nodded. "To business then. Were you successful?" Alidorim answered by wordlessly sliding the sack towards him. The man opened the burlap bag. Like the merchant, he examined each of the black mushrooms. Some he squeezed while other his sniffed in some attempt to determine freshness. Once complete he had the barmaid bring over a small scale. One by one the Reeve weighed the mushrooms. As predicted, they came out to just over five kilograms.

Despite receiving more than the volume he desired, the Reeve didn't look entirely pleased. Pulling a coin purse from around his neck he set about counting out the payment. "I believe we agreed to one-hundred silvers."

"And another fifty per extra kilogram." By Alidorim's estimation that should bring his total to three-hundred and fifty silvers or thirty-five gold. Enough to get him to Longsaddle at least. But as the Dragonborn watched the Reeve's coin pouch shrink he realized the amount on the counter wasn't the amount agreed upon.

Looking embarrassed the Reeve said, "I can only pay this much." 'This much' turned out to be only twenty-six gold and twenty-five silvers.

"That's a fourth less than agreed." His claws dug into the wood surface as his fingers curled into fists. Was the Reeve really attempting to swindle him out of his coin? They'd had an agreement, and now the old man was reneging on it.

Sensing his guest's frustration, the Reeve bowed his head. "Apologies. You caught me with a light purse." Making a placating gesture he added, "I hadn't expected you to gather so much, so quickly."

"I do a job," the Dragonborn growled angrily, "I get paid."

"A compromise," the Reeve hastily suggested, "I have credit at the Inn. Allow me to pay for your room and board for the remainder of your time here."

Olkith growled again snapping a splinter off of the counter's edge. For the first time since entering the room, the Reeve actually looked a bit nervous. He was probably thinking Alidorim could get his claws in him long before anyone could draw a weapon in his defense. It was a correct assumption, but not an accurate one. The Dragonborn had no interest in staying in Everlund any longer than he had too and certainly not as a guest in one of its jails.

Though none of the patrons were looking at him directly he could still feel their sidelong glances. He felt judgment radiating throughout the room. Given his earlier reception, Alidorim doubted his presence at the Inn would be more welcoming than the tavern. He also doubted the goliath would allow the embarrassment of being publicly chastised go unanswered. The sooner he was on the road, the better.

Very deliberately Alidorim pulled the stacks of coins towards him, never once breaking eye contact with the sweating Reeve. After packing up the untouched meal he departed the tavern ignoring the curses and glares that followed him out. It was all he could do not to vent his outrage. If he wasn't being harassed for his appearance he was being cheated out of his pay.

Ode to the grand life of an adventurer.


	4. Chapter 3 Traveler

**Chapter 3: Traveler**

On the road, a proper rest was always an elusive thing. No matter which way Alidorim slept he always managed to find a rock or a gnarled root. Even with a bedroll, he awoke the next morning cramped and sore. Fortunately, a long journey always loosened his muscles right up and he had a very long way to the next town.

Despite having left late in the day Alidorim managed to put a respectable distance between himself and Everlund. Only once the first bits of moonlight pierced the canopy did he stop.

It had occurred to him on the first night that coin wasn't the only thing he'd been shorted on. The Reeve had never given him a taste of his prized Goulash. Damn! True, he'd left in a hurry, but that still didn't stop him from lamenting the lost meal. It certainly would've beaten trail rations.

"Guess I'll never know," He sighed preparing for an early breakfast. Since he was unable to sleep, he might as well eat. At least he had the foresight to save the meal from the Tavern. Though the food was cold it served as a fine way to prepare him for the road ahead.

Traveling westward, Alidorim had stuck to the southern edges of the Evermoors, avoiding the worst of the marshlands. His path would trace south of a pair of mountain ranges bisected by the River Surbrin. On the east side of the river stood the smaller range dominated by Flint Rock. According to his map, another pricey purchase, he was still two days from the mountains.

Before recovering his sword and leaving town Olkith had taken the opportunity to restock his supplies. Long travels and lean jobs had drained much of his resources. Sparing what coin he could, he obtained fifteen days' worth of rations, the aforementioned map, and refilled his wine and water skin.

Unable to spare the money Alidorim had declined the services of a healer. Though his arm still pained him the injury wasn't life-threatening. He settled for a clean bandage, and a murmured blessing. The pain was just another thing he'd learn to bare. Unable to purchase additional potions, Olkith settled for a basic healing kit. He'd have to avoid any serious confrontations in the near future. The bandages and herbs would do well for light injuries but against more serious ones...

The Dragonborn growled again, irritated at being reminded at just how destitute he was. For too long he'd been relegated to novice tasks that paid little if they paid at all. After losing all his contacts and networks in the south, Alidorim had discovered that not too many 'northlings' wanted to hire his kind. Not for any respectable jobs, anyway. If half of what he'd heard was true, then Neverwinter and the Sword Coast was the place to be for those desperate for a fresh start.

The morning of the third day started with orange fingers of light clawing their way through the mist of the Evermoors. Alidorim had broken camp and set out long before the first knives of yellow sliced through the treetops.

The road which was little more than a well-used track through the woods bore little sign of recent traffic. No wagon ruts, nor horse droppings. Not even so much as a bent branch. Just an unbroken trail of leaves. A midmorning breeze passed through the trees filling the air with a soft hushing sound. Sunlight sparkled as the leaves danced before the warm rays.

Alidorim breathed deeply, inhaling the various earthy scents. He detected an undercurrent of sweetness to the foliage and could almost taste the moisture on the air. Even more subtly were the heartier smells of the swamp; fetid, but faint with distance. The Dragonborn wondered what new sensations awaited him on the coast. How would it compare to inland smells and tastes?

Taking another deep breath Alidorim tried to pick out the various smells. Most prevalent were evergreens, sweet and sticky. Beneath them were various shrubbery; fern, berry-types, and...

Alidorim's nostrils flared and his hackles rose. The breeze had shifted bringing with it a new scent. Lime mixed with onion, like an unwashed body. Beneath that, copper tainted with iron. It had been some time, but the Dragonborn would never forget those smells.

Following his nose, Alidorim moved off the path into the shade of the trees. As quietly as his bulk would allow, he pressed deeper into the woods until he stepped through a small opening...and froze.

The moment Alidorim stepped into the clearing all movement ceased, save for three pairs of beady yellow eyes turning towards him. They were no bigger than children, barely coming up to waist height, thin with sickly yellow skin and tufts of brown hair. Oversized ears, nose, and chins gave them a comical if not cruel appearance.

The trio of Goblins stared dumbly at the new arrival, unsure what to make of him. They were hunched over a pile of fabric adorning a bloody mass. Tension filled the air as shock quickly gave way to action. They turned away from their gruesome work to take up the weapons they'd set aside. All at once, the goblins charged, spitting and snarling.

The Dragonborn didn't bother drawing his weapons. Instead, he stepped into the attack, growling in anticipation. The lead goblin leaped raising its crude club. Alidorim's fist shot out and the Goblin broke upon its knuckles like water on stone.

As the first plummeted, spewing blood, the second goblin jumped wielding a hatchet. He was stopped abruptly when he found his throat encased by Olkith's other hand. Eye bulged in terror. It forgot about attacking in favor of clawing feebly at the four monstrous digits.

Shrieking profanities the final Goblin was already in the air. Soaring over his comrades he stabbed downward with a knife. The point hit Alidorim between his collar and shoulder. The goblin's triumphant smile faded when he realized the weapon hadn't penetrated the armor. Before it could retreat, Alidorim seized his third attacker.

The Dragonborn now had one goblin by the throat and the other by its stick-thin forearms. Both kicked and clawed as they struggled to break free. Their efforts were as futile as their attack had been. With a flick of his wrist, the second goblin's neck snapped like a wet branch. Twisting Alidorim slung the other goblin around lashing its tiny body against a tree. There was a meaty smack as its torso shattered across the hard bark.

The first goblin that had met his fist was stirring as Ulkith dropped the bodies. It scrabbled at the ground in a feeble attempt to escape. Alidorim stopped him by placing a foot atop its head. It struggled pitifully issuing gurgling pleas for mercy. The Dragonborn ignored them completely. The sickening wet crack and squish sound filled the clearing.

The silence that followed the brief battle was punctuated only by a breeze and Alidorim's heavy breathing. The Dragonborn had to take a few steadying breaths before taking stock of himself. Save for the third goblin none of the others had landed a hit. The knifepoint had left a small dent in the armor but hadn't punctured. It was fortunate the little bastard hadn't come in at a flatter angle. The tiny blade would've slipped easily between the plates and into soft flesh.

Alidorim sighed. He couldn't afford to be so reckless. Without potions and antidotes, a goblin's poisoned blade could kill him just as easily as a swamp monster.

Another deep calming breath and Ulkith set about taking in his surroundings. The Goblins themselves were small, even for their kind. They were thin and stunted. Meaning they'd been on there own, possibly cast-offs from a destroyed tribe. Their smell was putrid, but it wasn't enough to mask the other scent he'd detected.

The Dragonborn approached what had been the subject of the Goblin's attention before his arrival. Olkith's stomach clenched as he knelt next to what had once been a living being. Around its hands and feet, the ground had been furrowed as they'd struggled to escape. The goblins had savaged the body to the point Alidorim couldn't be certain of their species. He only knew it was a male because their clothing had been ripped off along with his travel pack. The Goblins had been rifling through its contents.

Feeling a mild sense of disgust Alidorim started to reach for the pack.

A twig snapped followed by a muffled squeak.

Alidorim shot to his feet, weapons coming to hand in a flash. He cursed himself for not having sensed another presence. The stench from the goblins and corpse must've cloaked theirs. Standing ready for anything he faced the direction the sound had emanated.

Nothing.

"Stop hiding!" he bellowed, "And face me!"

A muffled whimper and the soft shiver of leaves. His eyes shot toward the source. A dense patch of ferns on the opposite side of the clearing. Against the greens, he thought he saw flashes of red and white, but no additional movement.

Growling, Alidorim took a steadying breath before inhaling. His senses were immediately assailed by the overwhelming aroma of the dead goblins and the body of the traveler. Focusing, he took another smell. Foliage, and earth. Another smell...there it was.

It was bitter, like an undersaturated mix of ammonia and sweat. Whoever was hiding was afraid. There was no whiff of a goblin, but neither did it smell completely human. Perhaps the traveler had had a companion who'd managed to hide.

Sheathing his weapons but remaining conscious of their location, Alidorim raised his arms, palms outward. "The goblins are dead," He asserted trying to keep his voice calm while also conveying authority. "You can come out."

Another soft whimper followed by a rustle of leaves. Alidorim was about to speak again when the ferns parted, and a figure stepped out. The Dragonborn dropped his hands blinking several times in disbelief.

At first glance, Alidorim thought it was just another Goblin, but once he peered past the grimy skin, and filthy rags he saw the tiny shivering creature for what it was.

'What's a girl doing out here!' his mind railed.

Though she still stood in the shadows, her appearance was clear to see. Standing shorter than the goblins, her pale skin was contrasted by the deep crimson color of her hair. The mess of greasy curls fell to her shoulders nearly concealing the terrified expression on her face. The girl refused to meet the Dragonborn's gaze.

Olkith noticed her attention was focused on the three bodies. He realized her fear wasn't directed towards him. It was as if she expected the goblins to jump to their feet and ravage them all.

'She's in shock,' the Dragonborn rationalized, 'she was only feet away as her companion got murdered.' Some part of him wondered why he wasn't empathizing with her more. It was difficult for Alidorim to recall a time when Goblins had ever scared him. Those memories felt like they belonged to another person in a whole other life. To a naive adult, Goblins were savage creatures but harmless in small numbers. Alidorim learned the hard way that that wasn't always true. To a child, Goblins were the stuff of nightmares.

"They can't hurt you," Alidorim declared. The girl jumped and looked as if she was about to flee. The Dragonborn cursed himself for having spooked her. He didn't relish the idea of tracking her down through the forest. Whatever misgivings he had about the child he couldn't in good conscious leave her alone in the wilds.

After a few moments of silence, the girl relaxed a bit. Shifting nervously beneath his watch she rubbed at her arms as if warding off the cold. Eventually, she met the warrior's gaze. Eyes, black as night stared back at him.

At that moment another breeze shifted the trees and tossed back their girl's hair, bathing her in sunlight. Alidorim blinked and felt his hackles rise. Nestled amongst the mass of red curls were pointy elf-like ears. Their presence was dwarfed only by a pair of stubby horns atop her forehead.

Clawed fingers twitched as he gasped, "You're a...Tiefling..."


	5. Chapter 4 Wilds

**Chapter 4: Wilds**

"You're a...Tiefling..." Alidorim couldn't help but stare. He'd never encountered a member of the Infernal race. He'd only ever heard of them in tales of old Abeir spoken by the elders. Stories of men and woman beholden to darker powers, who's descendants continued to bear the mark of that desperation.

The girl cocked her head to the side. Her dark eyes glistened with confusion. "Teef-a-ling? _Smizw uw zmuw sarv_?" The way she drew out the pronunciation made it seem like the word was unfamiliar to her. The rest was pure gibberish to his ears. That might be a problem. What kind of beings didn't know their own species?

"Do you...speak...common?" he asked, spacing out his words hoping his tone and mannerisms might transcend any language barrier. She continued to look at him blankly. Alidorim groaned inwardly. Of course, she would only speak her native tongue. The girl didn't respond. Her gaze traveled back to what remained of her companion and the three dead goblins.

"_Tmyh cuddyv Urcis_," she whimpered. Moisture formed at the corner of her eyes as her tiny fists started to shake. "_Xe ip idaly_."

Following her gaze, the Dragonborn stepped forward, blocking her view. "They...are...dead." Tears streaked through the dirt on her face, she looked up at him. He rattled his brain for some way to explain, but nothing came. So, he reacted the only way he knew when it came to hardship. Shouldering the dead traveler's pack alongside his own, Olkith started walking to the road.

He only made it two steps before he felt something grasp one of his fingers. Looking down he spotted the little girls hand tugging at his digit. She pointed back toward her dead companion. "_Urcis siw qaav_," she exclaimed, her tone pleading, "_Hy pfwz ky kfruyv_." When the Dragonborn didn't respond she mimed grasping a tool. She began jabbing it into the ground in a shoveling motion. She then pointed back at the body and then pantomimed digging again.

"You want me to bury him?" He asked mimicking her movements. The girl nodded, but then frowned as Alidorim shook his head. Grasping the invisible shovel, he held it up before shrugging his shoulders. "With what tools?" She seemed to understand his meaning; a blessed relief, but still looked determined. She indicated the claws on his hands and feet, but again he shook his head. To validate his point, he kicked at the earth. Despite being close to a swamp the topsoil was surprisingly dense. His clawed toes barely gouged the surface.

The girl looked devastated. Fresh tears poured down her face as she looked back at her friend. "_Xe'p warrh_," she sobbed, "_Xe'p warrh, Urcis_." Alidorim didn't need to speak the Infernal tongue to know a grief-stricken apology when he heard one.

Grumbling, he reached into his own pack and withdrew a small leather bladder. The girl stopped her sobbing long enough to watch the Dragonborn remove the stopper and pour the contents onto the corpse. The liquid was yellow and semi-transparent possessing a noxious odor. Alidorim had been saving the fluid for an emergency. He supposed this would have to do.

A shower of sparks leaped from his flint and steel. On the second strike, the sparks caught the liquid enveloping the corpse in flames. Other than a squeak of surprise the girl made no attempt to put out the fire. It wasn't long before burning tendrils engulfed the body. After several moments of sizzling meat, the flames eventually died down. All that remained of her companion was a small pile of black smoldering ash.

"A burial fit for a king," Alidorim grumbled. Though he bemoaned the loss of such a precious resource, the act seemed to have calmed the girl. Perhaps the devil child was relieved her companion was finally at rest, or maybe her people had an affinity for fire. Either way, he'd had enough of his time wasted. He still had several miles to Flint Rock and he'd already spent enough energy fighting goblins and tending to corpses.

Alidorim turned and headed back to the road. Behind him, he heard the sounds of twigs breaking under little feet along with the occasional gasp of tiny lungs. He didn't bother to look back and check to see if the girl had followed. There was nothing left for her back in the clearing after all.

Upon reaching the road Olkith sighed when he heard the girl yip in pain for the fourth time. As she drew alongside him, she was taking several deep breaths while her face flushed with exertion. He noted her feet were completely bare save for a layer of dirt. "That won't do," He grumbled at her state.

The girl squeaked in alarm as the Dragonborn scooped her up. She was startlingly light for her size. Cradled in his massive arms she looked up at Alidorim with wide fearful eyes, arms and legs curled in a fetal position. Her feet were a mess of scrapes and cuts, old and new. How long had she been traveling without shoes?

Turning he began his trek down the road. "With four steps for every one of mine," he growled, "You'll die of exhaustion before we make progress." Obviously, she didn't understand a word he said, but she did not attempt to squirm away. When it became clear he had no intention of harming her, she slowly relaxed. As he walked, she continued to look at him with those dark discerning eyes.

The Dragonborn wondered what in the hells he would do with the child. He couldn't take her on his travels, but neither could he leave her to fend for herself. Alidorim's only hope was to find someplace along the way to leave her, a willing family or perhaps a temple or cloister.

"Do temples even accept Tieflings?" he wondered aloud. Dragonborn were not the only species judged for their appearance.

She gave him an odd look. "_Xe valz flvyrwzilv_," she stated flatly. He couldn't be sure, but the girl sounded a bit annoyed. They were going to have to do something about the language problem. Improvised sign language wouldn't cut it in the long run and in an emergency, there wouldn't be time to signal for danger.

They traveled until the sun dipped below the horizon. Ulkith carried her the entire way. During that time, he deduced her low weight was due to being malnourished. The way she devoured the ration bar he gave her during the journey confirmed it.

Her garb was exceptionally poor. Her companion's, what little hadn't been shredded, was also of low quality. Whoever they'd been, escaped slaves or fleeing refugees, they'd been traveling for some time and the wilds had not been kind.

Once camp was made, Alidorim proceeded to inspect the dead traveler's pack. As expected, there wasn't much. A tattered bedroll, a tinderbox, and a length of well-worn rope. He found a waterskin, but a hole had caused its contents to leak out some time ago. Some old rations might add a few more days to his supply, but that was without factoring in the child's appetite.

The girl in question sat staring into the fire with her arms wrapped around her knees. She occasionally glanced over at the Dragonborn as he rifled through her companion's possessions. If it bothered her, she gave no indication. Her eyes shifted between staring at the warrior and glazing over with fatigue and harsh memories.

Alidorim nearly cheered when he found a money purse tucked away at the very bottom of the pack. Opening it he found four-dozen coins of mixed value. The sight of the precious metals filled him with relief. At least now they could afford additional supplies along with a decent place to sleep and eat should the opportunity arise.

As he counted out the currency, a thought occurred to him. If the traveler had possessed so much money, then why was the girl in such a sorry state? Surely, he could've spared the coin on better clothes and accommodations. Unless he was intentionally mistreating the girl. The idea filled him with anger, but he quickly quashed it. The way the girl had fretted after her companions' body indicated they must've had an amicable relationship. It frustrated him to have so many questions and yet completely incapable of having them answered.

Sighing he resigned himself to what must be done.

"I can't just call you 'girl,'" Alidorim grumbled, gaining the child's attention. Pointing at her he asked, "What's your name?" She looked at him blankly again. Sighing he pointed at himself. "I'm...Alidorim." He repeated his name, carefully enunciating each syllable, "Ali...dor...im."

After blinking several times, the girl pointed at the Dragonborn. "Ally-door-'im," she repeated slowly.

Olkith nodded before tapping his chest, "Alidorim," then he pointed at her, "You are...?"

Realization dawned in her pale face, as she sat up on her knees. It wasn't a smile, but her eagerness was better than the constant cloud of grief and despair. Copying his movements, she said, "_Yaf vory_...Alidorim," and then pointed at herself, "_Xe'p_...Yulia."

"Yulia?" he asked pointing at her, "Your name is Yulia." The Girl nodded and Alidorim sighed in relief. At least they had each other's names right. That was a start.

The Dragonborn pulled out another ration and held it up. "Food."

"Food," she repeated drawing out the double vowels.

Alidorim nodded again. After pointing at her once more he mimed taking a bite out of it. "Yulia, eat food."

Her eyes widened at the sight of the sustenance. "_Xe'p_...eat...food." She said taking the ration and practically inhaling it.

The Dragonborn deduced the word '_xe'p_' indicated Yulia was referring to herself. _'Yaf vory_' clearly translated over to 'you are' in common. If they had any hope of comprehending one another then Alidorim must strive to understand as well as be understood. Unfortunately, that would have to wait. Once she'd finished her food, Yulia had attempted and failed to stifle a massive yawn. The firelight was barely visible in her drooping eyes. The weight of recent events was finally taking their toll.

He would've preferred to continue the exchange but the last of the sunlight had faded and they'd need their rest. Rolling out the bedrolls, he placed Yulia's between himself and the fire. It would be warmer for her as his body could reflect some of the heat. "Yulia...sleep," he patted the bedroll, "Sleep."

Yulia hesitated. Eyeing the space next to the Dragonborn as if noting how close to his claws she would be laying. It was an odd issue considering he'd held her in his arms for most of the day. Alidorim shrugged in a 'do as you wish' fashion before laying down himself. Through his half-lidded eye, he watched as the girl twisted the hem of her shirt and looking unsure of what to do. A cool night breeze encouraged Yulia to make a decision. She took the offered billet, pulling the wool blanket tight about her.

For some time, she stared at the 'sleeping' Dragonborn. Her dark eyes seemed to be taking in every inch of him and asking unspoken questions. Trust perhaps being one of them. He didn't blame her. Truth be told he didn't entirely trust her, though he had the benefit of size and appearance to dissuade rash action.

Fatigue finally won out, but as the child's eyes drooped closed a single word whispered from her mouth. "_Tmilchaf_ Alidorim."

As before, the Dragonborn didn't need to understand Infernal to get its meaning. "Your welcome, Yulia." He whispered before finally drifting off to the comforts of sleep.


	6. Chapter 5 Road

**Chapter 5: Road**

Alidorim had been adrift in the empty warm blackness for who knew how long when he was suddenly ripped back to full consciousness. He was on his feet weapons in hand ready to defend his camp from the intruders. Taking up a battle stance he scanned about for the threat. The forest was calm and dark beyond the glow of the waning firelight. All was quiet save for the terrified squeals issuing from the tiny bundle of wool next to him.

"_Pazmyr_!" Yula screamed, "_Oizmyr_!" She thrashed about clawing at the air, repeating the same two words over and over. "_Pazmyr_! _Oizmyr_!" In between cries, her body shook with uncontrolled sobs. Rivulets of tears ran down her cheeks. Her arms reached out as if they were trying to grasp something, but every time they closed on air her screams returned anew. "_Pazmyr_! _Oizmyr_!"

Roots and rocks be damned! Nothing spoiled a night's sleep faster than a shrieking child. Alidorim wasn't sure what to do. All he knew was that he wanted her to stop yelling. It was playing hell with his nerves. Yulia sounded like a rabbit caught in a trap. Her screams might bring unwanted attention even that deep in the wilds.

Finally, he knelt next to her. "Yulia!" he called out, "Yulia wake up!" But the sound of her name only caused her to scream those same two words again. This time she sat up, eyes still closed and yelling _'pazmyr'_ and _'oizmyr'_ at the top of her lungs. Alidorim reaches forward intending to shake her awake. The moment his fingers brushed her arms she calmed. At least when she said _'pazmyr'_ and _'oizmyr'_ again it was in hushed tones.

The Dragonborn paused before scooping the still sleeping girl into his arms and cradling her. Her tiny body still shuddered with sobs, but she no longer screamed. As he held her close Yulia continued to murmur _'pazmyr'_ and _'oizmyr'_ over and over. Eventually, the murmurs faded until only soft snoring remained.

Alidorim exhaled in relief. Stillness returned to the forest and his nerves could finally relax. He attempted to return the girl to her own bedroll but instantly recoiled when the sobbing began anew. Sighing in exasperation the Dragonborn resigned himself to a long night.

By the time daybreak rolled around, Alidorim was certain he had never experienced a worse night's rest. True, he'd eventually nodded off, but sitting up holding a tiny Tiefling wasn't exactly an ideal rest position.

For her own part, Yulia looked shocked beyond belief when she awoke in the large warrior's arms. Alidorim awoke when he felt the girl squirm out of his grip. Her expression was a mixture of fear and indignation. He wanted to be irritated but was honestly too tired to muster up the emotion. Instead, he busied himself getting breakfast ready.

Breakfast ended up being yet another trail ration. Yulia ate hers with gusto, her earlier mood forgotten. Alidorim ate a bit more sedately. The moment the girl had finished he figured it was as good a time as any to broach the subject.

"What is _pazmyr_ _oizmyr_?" The way she screamed them over and over meant the words had to be important. Maybe someone important. Yulia appeared to recognize the words but was unsure of what he was asking. Thinking as quickly as his sleep-deprived mind would allow, he glanced about, trying to figure out how best to phrase the question. Finally, he pointed back the way they had come and grasped a handful of ash. "Your companion. Was he _pazmyr_ _oizmyr_?"

Yula seemed to understand part of what he was asking or least what his gestures implied. "_La_, la_,"_ she said shaking her head, before copying the digging motion and pointing at the ashes of the fire. "_Mot_ _siw_ _Urcis_. Urcis."

Wanting to be sure he got her meaning Ulkith pointed at himself, "Alidorim," Pointed at the girl, "Yulia," then pointed behind him and then at the ash, "Urcis?"

She nodded vigorously. "_Hyw_, _hyw_. Urcis!"

At least now he had a name for her companion. Referring to him as just 'the traveler' felt inappropriate. Unfortunately, he still didn't know what _'pazmyr_ _oizmyr'_ was or why Yulia shattered nature's serenity with it.

One small consolation was he was sure he figured out _'la'_ meant no, and _'hyw'_ meant yes. When he ran this thought by Yulia he was relieved to be proven right. "_La_, no. _Hyw_, yes." She confirmed. Next, she picked up her portion of breakfast and said, "Food... _oaav_." Yulia stared at him expectantly until he realized she wanted him to repeat the words back to her. Alidorim complied. Yulia then pointed at the sleeping mats saying, "Sleep... _wdyye_." Once again, the Dragonborn parroted the words back. He started to wonder, was he teaching her common, or was she teaching him Infernal?

As they went about breaking camp, the Tiefling seemed completely unaware of her nightmarish episode the night prior. She still eyed him wearily and kept a respectful distance. Her only change in posture was when her feet pained her. Alidorim growled in frustration. Without proper footwear, her legs would be bloody nubs by the time they reached the river.

Now more fully awake, the Dragonborn considered his options. Yulia shouldn't walk and he couldn't exactly carry her the whole way. Aside from needing his arms free if there was trouble, the shockingly light girl still got heavy after a while. It didn't help she refused to let him use the healing kit on them.

Going through their supplies Alidorim withdrew a wool blanket. It would have to do, and he could replace it later. After spreading it out, he folded it once lengthways. Taking his knife out he cut a straight line along the middle stopping a third of the way across. He repeated this on the other side. Lastly, he sliced two holes on the fold near the center.

This entire time, Yulia looked on with bewildered curiosity. She had to be wondering why he was destroying one of their only blankets. She was even more surprised when he gestured for her to get in the folded portion. She hesitated before finally complying. He gently guided each of her thin legs through the holes before laying the top layer over her. She looked at him quizzically. "Yulia...sleep?"

Alidorim shook his head. "No. Yulia ride." And with that, he grabbed the wool blanket and pulled it against his back. She squeaked in shock, feet kicking in alarm before she realized what the Dragonborn had done. The strips he'd cut went over each shoulder and around either side of his waist. All four 'legs' met at the front of his torso and where they were secured by an improvised brooch and a bit of rope. By folding the blanket in half one layer prevented her from rubbing against his armor, while the other kept her secure.

Glancing over his shoulder he saw that other than being shocked beyond belief the little girl didn't appear uncomfortable. He'd considered using the other pack in much the same way, but the goblins had done a serious number on it. Later on, he'd use it for material, to reinforce his 'child carrier.'

After adjusting the straps, he pulled his pack on next. It hung low so as to not place too much of the weight on Yulia. Next, he strapped his arming sword and short sword to his waist. Before setting off Alidorim looked back at his passenger and asked, "Yulia?" He got the slightest of nods as affirmation.

With the Tiefling on his back, Alidorim was able to move a lot more quickly. The redistribution of his gear took some getting used to, but he managed. Yulia didn't seem to mind the arrangement, although at first, she didn't say or do much. Olkith could feel her unease through the blanket. He got the feeling that if she wasn't staring at the back of his head the Tiefling was glaring into his shoulder. Surely, she had to prefer this over injuring her feet further.

Wanting to ease the tension, Alidorim took advantage of the time they had. The road was long, and they needed something to occupy their minds. "Yulia," he got her attention before pointing at a nearby evergreen. "Tree."

When she didn't reply right away, he grumbled before gesturing again and repeating himself. She followed his finger. "Ta-ree...tree..._zryy_."

Alidorim nodded. "_Hyw_, yes. _Zryy_ is tree." Next, he plucked a branch off the ground. "Stick...leaf...branch," and Yulia responded both in Common and Infernal. That became their routine for the rest of the day. Alidorim showing her something and describing it in Common. Yulia would repeat the word and then give him the translation in Infernal. Every once in awhile, they went back and reviewed what they'd covered. Some words she had to say a few more times before getting the pronunciation right. Alidorim's grasp on the Tiefling language was a bit more challenging.

Armor..._arpar_.

Clouds..._tdafvw_.

Sword..._ssarv_.

Dirt..._vurz_.

Blanket..._kdilcyz_.

And so on...

The next day was more the same, though the night could've gone better. Olkith spent the night propped against a tree holding his passenger till she quieted. Forgoing any attempt to lay her back on her own bedroll, he managed to get some sleep.

After a quick breakfast, they were on the road again. Alidorim would be lying if he said he wasn't impressed by her memory. But she was still a child, and like all children, her focus wandered. She'd tap a tuneless rhythm on his shoulder or play with one of his head tendrils, what humans and near-humans might consider 'hair.' It didn't hurt so he let her be.

Whenever he regained her attention they covered as many adjectives as he could find examples of. His red, or _ryv_ skin seemed to fascinate her while describing his armor as 'hard,' or _mirv_ took some doing. He was by no means a scholar but as they paused for a midday meal, he felt they'd made significant progress.

He had just started to pull the rations and water from his pack when he heard a small growl emanating from the wool blanket. Looking up he saw the Tiefling look a bit embarrassed. "Yulia...hungry," he said rubbing his stomach before pulling out the ration. "Yulia...eat."

Taking the food, Yulia nodded rubbing her own stomach which gave another awkward growl. "Yulia hungry. Eat. _Tmilchaf_."

"_Tmilchaf_ is...thankyou?" he asked, and Yulia inclined her head. She sat cross-legged before the Dragonborn and began to eat. After several candle-marks of riding on his back, it seemed the girl had finally grown comfortable about him. It helped they were being more conversive. Alidorim still didn't know what _pazmyr_ _oizmyr_ was. If he had to spend another sleepless night over those words, he was going to be very cranky.

Stamping down his frustration, he decided to check the map while he ate. Despite the various deviations, they were making good time. Faster than he'd expected. He'd heard companions always made for a shorter road. Glancing over at the Tiefling he couldn't help but see the truth in the analogy.

Going over the route he figured they could get in the shadow of Flint Rock if he pushed himself. A day after that they should reach the Surbrin River crossing. Hopefully, there was a willing settlement or homestead along the way. As interesting as it had been Alidorim didn't need to keep Yulia with him any longer than necessary. The road was no place for children and the wilds could be merciless as Urcis had learned the hard way.

At that moment the wind changed and Alidorim felt a shift in air pressure. Inhaling, he caught the distinct scent of dampness on the wind. It wasn't that same fetid stench of the Evermoores getting caught on a northerly gust. This breeze came up from the south and the smell was of clear moisture.

"Alidorim," Yulia called out. The Dragonborn turned and saw the girl was standing and pointing skyward. "Alidorim, sky, clouds." Sure enough, through the trees, they could see dark rolling clouds. Yulia had a look of concern about her. Despite not knowing common or her own species name, she knew very well what those clouds meant.

Scarfing the last of his food, Alidorim stowed his gear. He pulled Yulia into her makeshift carrier and slung his pack. Before setting out he withdrew a cloak and prepared to drape it over the girl. The sun was at its highest. Alidorim figured they had another three candle-marks before the thunderheads blocked it out. Whether she liked it or not, Yulia was about to learn the word 'storm' and all that it entailed.


	7. Chapter 6 Health

**Chapter 6: Health**

Lightening sliced across the sky. For an instant, it overwhelmed what little sunshine remained. Each flash was punctuated by the cracking of thunder that shook the very ground. Torrents of rain lashed themselves against the treetops, drenching everything in their assault.

Far below the Dragonborn and his minuscule ward bore the brunt of the storm's wrath. As predicted the noonday sun was eclipsed by the clouds until the forest felt more like late afternoon. The thunder heralded the tribulations that were to come. Next arrived the rain, steady at first but quickly evolving into sheets. Even beneath the shade of the trees, it felt like they were walking beneath a waterfall.

At first, the cloak managed to shed the worst of the weather. Alidorim had dawned it the moment he felt the first drops, but soon even its treated surface succumbed to the downpour. He could feel Yulia shivering despite being pressed up against his back. Dragonborn had exceptionally high body temperatures, and he'd hoped that between that and wool the child would remain warm. Such had not been the case.

Night approached much more quickly and Alidorim attempted to make camp. Yulia would need a fire to dry off and to stave off the chill. Unfortunately, the weather would not allow any rest. Gusts of wind toppled any makeshift shelter and the rain doused all hopes for a fire.

"Alidorim," Yulia said weakly. She was curled up in the Dragonborn's lap as they sat beneath the boughs of a thick maple. The mighty tree offered some respite from the weather, but not much. He looked down doing his best to shield her with the folds of the cloak and his own body.

"Yes, Yulia," he responded, noting how she flinched with each rumble of thunder.

Even though her tiny body was enveloped by the blanket, she shuddered. The only benefit to come from the rain was that it cleansed some of the dirt off her face. The result was her hair and eyes contrasted all the more with her skin. Was it him or was she looking paler than usual?

The Tiefling angled her head and looked up him. "Storm, bad," she murmured.

Alidorim nodded in agreement. "Yes, Yulia. The storm is bad."

She shuddered again before adding in a gruff disapproving tone, "Gods damn storm."

The sudden curse startled a wry chuckle out of the warrior. He'd used the same phrase more than once as they were soaked by waves of rain. He hadn't expected her to get his meaning so quickly. "Yes, Yulia. It is a Gods be damned storm." The Dragonborn would have to start watching what he said if the girl was going to parrot every swearword he spoke. He'd learned more than his fair share in his travels, and not all of them in Common.

Lightning flashed again and they both winced as an explosion rocked the forest. Somewhere in the distance an age-old tree had stood up to the force of the storm and suffered for it. As much as he didn't enjoy the thought of being struck by lightning, neither did he want to get Yulia any colder than she was. He could only hope and pray the weather improved by dawn.

No such luck. While the thunder and lightning had moved off eastward, the rain continued to drown the forest. Resting beneath the cloak Yulia had no screaming fits at least, but Alidorim still didn't sleep well again. When he finally woke up he was alarmed to find Yulia was shaking and coughing uncontrollably. Her skin was indeed paler and clammy to the touch. Pressing two fingers to her brow he cursed.

"A fever," Alidorim groaned. When another bout of coughing wracked her tiny body something in his chest twisted. Just like with her night terrors, he just wanted them to stop, but he was unsure how. He thought about his options, but neither fire nor shelter would do much good. His Healing kit was full of herbs but those were more for tending minor injuries. If the girl was sick, she needed a healer and medicine.

"Hang on Yulia," he pleaded, rising to his feet. He didn't bother with the carrier. Pressing her close to his chest would be warmer while his cloak kept her mostly dry. With the child as secure as possible, he began walking.

The sheer volume of rainfall had transformed what had been a traversable track into a quagmire. Mud squeezed up from between his toes sucking his feet down with each step. There was nothing for it. Alidorim pressed onward. His only hope was the crossing at the Surbrin River. If there was a settlement there, then perhaps they had a healer.

Unfortunately, they were still over a day away and Yulia's state wasn't improving. The Dragonborn's willpower railed against his fatigued mind. He wouldn't fail the girl. Not after resolving to find her a place to live.

"I'll find you a home, child," he growled forcing his legs to go faster, "Let me keep that promise."

The day passed, and Alidorim continued his determined march. He paused only to check Yulia's condition and to get her to drink water and eat. Her cough was worse, and her fever endured along with it. Sighing, Olkith hoisted his burden and pressed on. Every inch of his body was either soaked with water or caked in mud and yet he didn't care. All that mattered was getting Yulia help.

As day turned to dusk her illness progressed to the point she barely ate or drank. Her chest rattled with each cough and the only color to her skin was the flushed tint to her face. Alidorim wasn't in much better shape. Exhaustion poured through every muscle in his body. His mind yearned for sleep and his legs demanded rest. He hadn't stopped moving since dawn and though he was a Dragonborn, even his species had limits.

At one point in the night, he tripped on a root and nearly collapsed. He caught himself with his one free hand, which sank to the wrist in the mud. Yulia moaned against his chest. She'd stopped drinking entirely and was in the midst of a fever dream.

"Please, _pazmyr_," Yulia whimpered. She coughed again, groaned in pain before saying, "I hurt." One of her arms snaked out of the blanket and grasped one of Alidorim's tendrils. "_Ejyrhzmulq_ hurts," She sobbed, "_Dal'z_ leave me."

Though half the words made little sense to him, Alidorim was simply relieved the Tiefling was still alive. Though for how much longer he wasn't sure. The storm had blanketed the horizon, so he had no clue whether they'd passed Flint Rock or not. Now it was too dark to see more than a few meters ahead. Olkith didn't know how much further he could go. Every part of him ached and he could barely keep his eyes open. He wanted so badly to rest.

"Please, Gods," he begged, "Let me keep my promise."

Lights danced before his eyes. Alidorim thought he'd finally given in to the temptation of sleep. But as one moment stretched into two, he realized he was still kneeling in the mud. His body still protested and Yulia moaned in his arms. The lights he realized were coming from further up the road.

Somewhere in his mind, he calculated the amount of time and distance had passed and while it still rained, it wasn't the sound of precipitation he heard. It was the sound of flowing water.

"Surbrin!" His mind shouted, "The crossing!" Snarling he dug his claws into the mud. Alidorim willed his body to rise, but despite rekindled hope, his overtiredness weighed him down like an anchor. It was all he could do not to collapse.

Yulia coughed again before sobbing, "Alidorim...I...hurt."

Those three little words, spoken in the most pitifully weak voice hit harder than any weapon. They struck like lightning in his chest. The wrath and fury of the storm seemed to course through his bones. Roaring with the determination that would put the thunder to shame, the Dragonborn staggered to his feet. One foot rose from the mud and stepped forward, then the next, and then the next. Soon he was walking, and then...Alidorim was running.

"Hold on Yulia," he called out as his legs sliced through the water and mud, "Hold on child!"

The lights that had seemed like pinpricks in the night soon grew to illuminate a walled manor-house. Beyond it was a wide stone bridge that spanned the River Surbrin. The lights were the lanterns that flanked a gate, closed for the night.

Alidorim's fist hammered the wooden surface sending a shudder through the thick frame. No answer. He pounded again; this time so hard he was sure to dislodge the hinges. His belligerence was rewarded by a voice calling out. "Who's out there?"

"Alidorim Olkith!" he shouted back, "A traveler!"

"You know what bloody time it is?" the man snapped back. He heard the distinct sound of a weary yawn. "What business brings you here?"

"We seek shelter from the storm!"

The guard grumbled in frustration. "Then seek it elsewhere!" he yelled, "No visitors after nightfall!"

Anger and terror permeated him, the likes of which he hadn't felt in ages. If he didn't get Yulia help soon, she wouldn't last the night. He heard the sound of receding footsteps and slammed his palm on the door. "Please," he yelled in desperation, "I have a child! She's sick!"

The footsteps stopped and all was quiet. Alidorim feared the man had left, when all of a sudden, a brief argument ensued. One voice belonged to the guard while the other was new. He was about to hit the doorway again and plead with the other voice when the new arrival shouted, "Open the damn gate you fool!"

Alidorim nearly stumbled forward as the door he leaned against swung forward. There were two men on the other side. One carrying a lantern and wearing a thoroughly soaked cloak. The other wore a much dryer cloak over nightclothes. Both swore and took several steps back at the sight of the Dragonborn. The guard looked as if he was reaching for something in his cloak.

Thinking fast Alidorim threw open his cloak and revealed the tightly wrapped bundle in his arms. "Please," he said in as soft a voice as he could muster, "help her."

The second man yanked the lantern from his companion before cautiously approaching the warrior. He gasped as the light illuminated Yulia's red hair and pale humanesque face. The man wasted no time and ushered him towards the main house. "Get her inside quickly!" he ordered before looking at the guard, "Lock the gate and then rouse Father Sebas." The guard blubbered acknowledgment before doing as he was told.

"Thank you," Alidorim said as he was marshaled into a large living room dominated by an impressive fireplace. The man either didn't hear him or was ignoring him outright. Instead of responding he ran to the stairwell and shouted, "Maddy get down here!"

"What's the matter," came a groggy feminine reply.

"Sick child!" the man responded, "Bring medicine!" With that, he moved back to Alidorim and gestured for Yulia. Olkith hesitated before turning over the girl. The man nodded in assurance before laying her on a padded sofa. As the man unwrapped the child, a woman came barreling down the stairs, also in her nightclothes, and clutching a leather satchel. She paused only long enough to allow her surprise to be known before rushing to Yulia's side.

"Move aside Julian," she barked, and the man complied. She began examining the girl with quiet professionalism. As she worked, she commented on Yulia's symptoms before asking, "How long has she been like this?"

"Since this morning," Alidorim answered.

"It is morning!" the woman snapped without looking at him. "So yesterday morning?" Alidorim grunted in acknowledgment. Had he really been carrying her for over a day? He used the mantelpiece to steady himself. Maddy was still examining the child while the man, Julian, looked on.

Everything was happening so fast the Alidorim didn't notice the door open. In walked another older man wearing simple masonic robes. "What's happened Julian," the new arrival gasped, "Tuck was saying we're boarding a demon and a dra-" his voice came up short at the sight of Alidorim looming next to the fireplace, "-gon. Oh, my word."

"Father Sebas, I need you!" Maddy called out, "Stop gawking and shift your arse!"

The priest blubbered an incoherent apology. He was already rolling up his sleeves as he approached the couch. The pair exchanged what they knew in hushed but frantic voices. Though they were only across the room they seemed muffled with distance.

The world spun and his last image was of Sebas folding his hands in prayer and the woman Maddy leaning over Yulia's motionless form. "Please," he begged as the shadows swarmed the edges of his vision, "I made a promise."


	8. Chapter 7 Rest

**Chapter 7: Rest**

Alidorim's return from unconsciousness was slow. More than once the sheer weight of his fatigue dragged him back down into the void. Awareness dawned as twinkles of faraway starlight. That distant glimmer spread into a brilliant horizon. Soon his vision was filled with the brilliance of the waking world.

Groaning, the Dragonborn sat up. He was on the floor next to the fireplace. Someone had placed a pillow under his head and quilt across his body. They made no attempt to remove his armor or weapons. The bright shaft of midday sunlight pierced the living room casting a soft golden haze on the couch. Beneath a white sheet laid Yulia. She was still with her red hair fanned out around her head. Mercifully her chest rose with the steady rhythm of one in a deep sleep.

A relieved sigh escaped Oklith's mouth.

"Ah, you're finally awake," a female voice called out. The woman from the night before walked in carrying a tray of food. She was dressed in modest workwear as befitting a woman of the house. "If you slept any longer, I'd consider tossing a bucket of water on ya."

Ignoring that last comment Alidorim refocused on the girl. "Yulia?"

The woman smiled and replied as she placed the tray upon the nearby table. "Aye, your daughter's recovering nicely."

Alidorim relief was only surpassed by surprise. Had the woman really assumed that he, a Dragonborn, had sired a Tiefling? "She's not my-" he started to state but was cut off.

"Father Sebas cast a sleeping spell so that she could rest properly," Maddy kept on talking as if the warrior hadn't even spoken. "Poor thing was suffering fever dreams." Walking over she gave the girl a quick once over, pausing at her feet. Suddenly her head snapped in his direction. Alidorim was taken aback by the fire in her eyes. "I have half a mind to box your ear over the state of her feet." Her gaze narrowed dangerously. "What kind of father lets his girl walk barefoot?"

Once again, his sheepishness was outweighed by his annoyance at her presumption. "I'm not her-" he once again tried to correct her but never got the words out.

"I cleaned and bandaged them. Father Sebas purged the infection without much effort, thank the Gods." She stood straight and placed her hands on her hips. "It'll be some time before she wakes. I suggest you eat and then go see Julian. We don't board freeloaders." Alidorim opened his mouth to assure her he had every intention to pay, but the woman pressed on. "By the way, I managed to untangle the poor girl's tail. Somehow it got tied up about her waist."

Olkith blinked several times. "Her...tail?"

"And thank Sebas when you get a chance!" she called out, disappearing back out of the room. Alidorim could only sit in stunned silence. He took a moment but couldn't recall a moment when a woman half his size railroaded his own conversation.

Dazed Alidorim got up and walked over to the couch. Yulia lay in gentle repose. Lifting the blanket, he saw that she was wearing a proper nightgown rather than rags. The family must have cleaned her up as well. There was no trace of dirt on her skin either. Somehow it made her appear younger.

As promised her feet were wrapped in white bandages, and Alidorim could smell fresh herbs. At least now she could walk without pain.

Looking a bit lower he saw that Yulia did indeed have a thin tale. It matched her hair in color and was about as long as her leg. As he observed the appendage it slowly curled with each of her breathes. In the back of his mind, he'd known Tieflings had them, but for some reason, it never occurred to him that Yulia would possess one. "So...she has a tail...How did I miss that?" Alidorim would have to blame fatigue, frustration, and a genuine indifference on that one. He did find it odd that it was tied about her waist as if she were attempting to hide it. Now that he thought about it, her hair could easily cover the ears and horns. Unless someone got a good look at her eyes, Yulia could pass for human or half-elf in a pinch.

But why would she be hiding who she was? Better yet, who or what was she hiding from? More questions and fewer answers in the making. He certainly wouldn't be getting them while she slept, so Alidorim decided to partake of the food Maddy brought. A fresh meal of boiled eggs, a slice of ham, and porridge. The bill for the family's hospitality would be significant for sure, but at that moment his appetite and relief outweighed such concerns.

The storm had not been kind to the compound. Thatching had been ripped off the roofs of the outbuildings, and the courtyard was dotted with mud puddles. Men were hard at work repairing the damage while women and children were going about the daily chores. Julian and the guard from last night, Tucker were assisting with the maintenance. After making sure he wasn't needed, Julian descended from the stable roof and approached the Dragonborn. He was middle-aged, balding, but with a strong physique. Alidorim noticed the slightest of hesitations in his step as he drew near. None of the residences seemed completely sure of the new arrival.

"You certainly know how to make an entrance," Julian said, by way of greeting. They shook hands. The human seemed to flinch when flesh met scales. "Glad to see your up and about."

Alidorim merely nodded. "We are grateful you took us in."

Julian shrugged as if it were a minor issue. "How's your daughter doing?"

"She's not my daughter," the Dragonborn growled, annoyed at everyone's assumption.

The human gave Olkith a sarcastic look as if to say, 'No kidding?' "Could've fooled us," he said with a shrug, "the way you hovered about her till you collapsed from exhaustion."

The reminder of how much the family had done for Yulia and himself cowed his frustration. "I appreciate the help," he said bowing his head in gratitude. Alidorim felt sheepish. Obviously, none of them believed he was her biological father, but the way he'd behaved he undoubtedly presented himself as such.

"Don't thank us too much," the man replied with a wry smile, "You were too heavy to move, and none dared touch ya because of...uh..." he gestured not to the weapons but his dragonesque features. At least he was upfront with his people's feelings and had the decency to look apologetic at the implication. Alidorim could respect that. After a hot meal, decent sleep and Yulia on the mend there was little he wouldn't tolerate.

"Don't see much of your kind this far north." Julian barreled on. "Not every-night a Dragonborn shows up at your door carrying a sick Tiefling. There's a story there to be sure."

"Not much of one." He briefly explained the events surrounding him and Yulia's brief acquaintance. He didn't omit much, and the tale barely took a few minutes to tell. Julian spat at the mention of Goblins but seemed impressed by how far his travels had taken them. "We were fortunate," he explained, "Didn't even know there was a settlement at the crossing."

Julian nodded and gestured at the manor. "Aye, we get paid to maintain the bridge plus extra coin from travelers and commerce up and down the river."

At the mention of money, Alidorim brought up the subject of payment for the care. Julian waved off the topic. "When Yulia feels better," he declared. About that time Father Sebas, the priest from the night before walked up. "Speak to the good father. I've still got plenty of work to do." After nodding to the priest Julian rejoined his men.

"I see you've met my patron," the priest commented, "A good man, if a bit stingy with his prayers." Despite his surprise, the night prior the older man didn't seem at all perturbed by Alidorim's appearance. Neither did it appear to bother him that the mud was staining the hem of his robes.

"I am grateful for yours in regard to Yulia," the Dragonborn said inclining his head, but like Julian, Sebas waved the topic off.

"What kind of priest would I be if I ignored the sick and helpless." He sighed looking weary for a moment. "Truth be told a few more hours in that weather and she would've been beyond our skills."

Alidorim grumbled in agreement though his mind perished the thought lest it turns to bile in his stomach. He did mention the earful the Lady of the House had given him upon awakening.

"So, you met Maddy," Sebas guffawed, "God's love her. That woman wields maternal instinct like a mace." The comparison startled a laugh out of the warrior, and he had to agree. Despite being armed and armored, the woman had bossed him around as if he were a child. He hadn't even thought twice about it.

"She's very...stalwart," he said trying to be tactful regarding their host.

"She's a force of nature, is what she is." Again, the priest managed to draw a genuine laugh out the Dragonborn. The moment the chuckles had subsided Sebas asked how Alidorim and Yulia ended up in such dire straits. Once more the warrior recounted the events of the last few days starting with the encounter with the Goblins. As he regaled him with the story Sebas began to look grimmer behind his smile. By the time he'd finished the priest was looking contemplative.

"She is young," Sebas said parsing out what information Alidorim had given him on the girl. "Having been on the road for so long might justify her lack of knowledge."

"She picked up on common easily enough," Olkith replied a bit defensively. Yulia may not know she was a Tiefling, but that didn't mean she wasn't smart.

"Of course," The priest said with a smug smile, "Your child-"

There was that presumption again! Alidorim had had enough. "She is not my child!" he snarled, his patience and gratitude having reached its limits.

Sebas didn't seem the least bit concerned about his temper. "For a being claiming to not be her father," he said as calmly as if they were speaking over tea, "you have a paternal way about you."

"I promised I would find her a home," he stated in a rather blunt tone, "Nothing more or less."

The priest wrinkled his nose. "Rather crass of you," he said in a disapproving tone, "I'd believe it if it didn't come from someone who marched through a storm for two days carrying a sick child that was not his own."

"Do not visit my intentions, priest." Alidorim snapped. As accurate as Sebas' statement was the human should not deign to know the inner working of the Dragonborn's mind. "When I desire counsel, I'll seek it."

Sebas shrugged not in the least bit put out by his rebuke. "Suit yourself, lad," he said. He started to turn away but paused and looked back. "But a bit of free advice?" Alidorim knew he'd regret it but nodded regardless. The Priest had saved Yulia's life. He was owed a measure of latitude. Giving a soft smile, Sebas said, "Fate often works out in ways we did not intend." And with that, he left Alidorim in a mixture of annoyance and introspection.

Alidorim turned and reentered the house and took a seat next to the couch. Yulia would wake and it was best he was present. She would awake in a strange place and would need someone familiar to keep her calm.

Whatever everyone else thought, Alidorim could never be Yulia's father. No one should have him as a father. She deserved better. Somehow Olkith would find her someone better.


	9. Chapter 8 Remain

**Chapter 8: Remain**

It was late afternoon when Yulia finally came to. She appeared dreary and unaware of where she was at first. The moment her surroundings came into focus the Tiefling started panicking. "Alidorim! Alidorim!" she called out in terror. Fortunately, the Dragonborn was close by.

Once she'd calmed down enough Olkith explained to Yulia where they resided and who their hosts were. Though Maddy, Julian, and Father Sebas were polite and pleasant, Yulia huddled close to Alidorim, quivering. Fortunately, the adults weren't offended by her actions. Maddy knew exactly how to draw her out, by producing a plate of food. Upon Alidorim's insistence, Yulia delved into the meal. The moment she tasted the first bite her eyes shown with a joy that her smile matched. It was the first time he'd ever seen her smile.

"Maddy's meals can break the thickest ice," Julian commented making the woman beam proudly.

As the child ate Sebas surreptitiously caste a health appraisal spell and seemed pleased with the results. "The sickness has passed." Everyone sighed in relief, including Alidorim who hadn't expected to be so comforted by the child's wellness. He figured it was only natural. After all, he still had a promise to keep.

Now that Yulia was better, the Dragonborn figured that it was time to settle up with the Bridge-keeper and his family. Julian declined payment in gold and silver. Instead, he demanded his pay in the form of labor.

"There are a few jobs about the manor that needs doing," he explained, "Four days of honest work and we'll call it even." Alidorim agreed to the deal. Even without knowing the specifics of the tasks, Olkith couldn't afford to turn down the offer. The coin would be necessary later on and the work would cover the additional costs of meals, medicine, and shelter.

The next day found the Dragonborn repairing a partially collapse portion of the wall. His part consisted of hefting stone and mortar while Julian and others worked. The masonry came after he mucked out the stables and chopped a brush pile into firewood. The work was difficult, but Alidorim found that he enjoyed it. Using his strength to build rather than kill was a pleasant change of pace.

As he was laying another stone, he felt a tap on his shoulder and Julian pointed towards the center of the courtyard. There stood Yulia wearing a spare outfit Maddy had loaned her. She'd finally left the house to explore her surroundings. She gazed about in awe and wonder. In her venturing, Yulia was greeted by three boys of differing height. The tallest with auburn hair approached her.

"Don't think I've ever seen a girl like you before." The boy began circling Yulia curiously looking her up and down. "Never seen hair like yours. You some kinda elf?"

"Not with horns and a tail. Maybe a drow?" A smaller boy with blonde hair said. The very mention of the appendage caused Yulia to grip it nervously as if embarrassed by it. The boy went on to say. "Da' said she showed up with that Dragonborn during the storm."

"Her hair is kinda weird though." A brown-haired boy commented scrutinizing Yulia's head. All three boys appeared intrigued by her appearance. "It's so red while her eyes are so black."

"There like Fire and charcoal." The second boy supplemented in a fascinated tone. If they were put off by her horns, ears or tail, none of them seemed to care.

"So where are you from?" The tall boy asked.

"_Yaf zidc za oiwz_," Yulia replied looking nervous. "_Xe val'z flvyrwzilv_."

"Huh?" the tall boy asked recoiling in confusion, "What'd you say?"

"My _sarvw_-no-" Yulia started to get flustered as she struggled to find the right words. "my...words...no good." Moisture started to form at the corners of her eyes. Alidorim started to step toward her but stopped at Julian's insistence. His expression seemed to say, 'let's see what happens.'

"You should stop it, Rudi," the brown-haired boy said looking concerned, "you'll make her cry."

The tall boy, Rudi, looked at his friends with an arched eyebrow. "Why? I'm just talking to her. We get few visitors and none of them are kids." Something about the boy's presence seemed to unnerve the poor girl as she tried pushing past them and escape back into the house. "Hey where are you going?" the boy asked grabbing her hand.

"_Dyz py qa_!" she said in a soft but demanding tone. In her anxiety, Yulia had reverted to her native language. Alidorim again made a motion to intervene but Julian made a soothing gesture. The Dragonborn knew the man wouldn't allow his children to do anything bad, but Olkith couldn't deny his protective obligation much longer.

"What'd she say?" Rudi asked looking baffled. His friends shrugged.

"Wasn't elvish or dwarf." The blonde boy said, "Sounded like she was talking backward."

"_Pdyiwy_! _Pdyiwy_!" At the Tiefling's panicked voice Julian turned as if to finally intervene but then paused at what happened next.

"Stupid boys!" A girl stepped out of the stable. She was a bit taller than Rudi with long brown hair. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded running up to the group.

"Cloe?" Rudi asked wondering where the new arrival had come from.

"How dare you pick on a little girl!" she declared, glaring hard at the trio, but mainly at Rudi who was still holding Yulia's hand. "Your terrible!" Suddenly she leaped forward and tackled Rudi along with a smaller blonde boy who got tangled up in the ensuing brawl. Yulia and the third boy looked on in shock as the girl tumbled around in the dirt thrashing about with the duo giving as good as she got.

The impromptu fight was little more than wrestling. None of the adults appeared to be worried though a few did laugh. Tucker even commented, "They're at it again. Maybe this time Rudi will win."

When they finally untangled the girl, Cloe, stood over the pair of trounced boys. "So, you don't like getting beat up?" The pair glared up at her as she shook an admonishing finger. "Then don't go and bully a little girl."

"We weren't bullying her!" the smaller boy said rubbing at his knee.

"Then what were you trying to do?" she asked in an accusatory tone.

"Talking to her, duh!" Rudi snapped back. "You could've asked before attacking us."

The smaller boy winced and rubbed his knee. Yulia knelt down and looked at the scrape. "You...hurt?" The boy nodded.

"I'm sure it's fine," Cloe said waving dismissively, "just spit on it and rub it in."

"You really like spit," the third boy commented looking a bit disgusted.

"Quiet Marcel!" the girl snapped making the boy laugh.

Yulia looked a bit sad as she examined the injury. "_Mh_-My fault. Yulia's...words bad." She reached into her belt pouch. "_Xe_-I...sorry."

"Don't be sorry," the boy said with a weak smile, "It's our own fault for scaring you." His smile morphed into curiosity when Yulia produced a vial of ointment. Maddy had given her some extra to apply to her feet if they started hurting. Instead, the Tiefling gave it to the boy who smiled in genuine relief.

After that, introductions were made. While under the watchful eye of Cloe, the boys began plying careful questions to Yulia. They were fascinated by her tail and horns. Eventually, they were able to convince the Tiefling to play with them. Much to Alidorim's surprise she agreed without so much as a backward glance at the Dragonborn.

"With children, play is often the best medicine," Julian commented before nudging Olkith back to work.

"How did you know?" Alidorim asked referring to Cloe's timely arrival.

"I didn't," he admitted with a shrug. "Children will do as they do. As parents, it's our job to know when to mediate and when to let things happen."

By now Alidorim simply ignored the collective assumption that he was Yulia's father. It did little good to argue otherwise. There was something sobering in Julian's words. As her Guardian, Alidorim realized there were things he couldn't protect Yulia from. Moments where he would have to stand back and watch what happened.


	10. Chapter 9 Beginnings

**Chapter 9: Beginnings**

The four days spent at the crossing passed sooner than Alidorim expected. From dawn until dusk he worked to earn their keep. The mornings consisted of chores while the afternoons involved specific tasks. First was the wall, then patching the holes in the courtyard. The third day involved moving a fallen tree from the road. The final day saw Alidorim waist-deep in the river clearing detritus built up against the pylons.

Yulia spent the daylight hours with the other children, either at play or work. At night she instinctively huddled close to Alidorim in order to stave off whatever memories haunted her. Despite the nightmares, the time spent at the settlement were the happiest Alidorim had ever seen the child. Hearing her laugh made him wonder just who the girl could've been...given a better life.

The afternoon before Alidorim's departure the residence of the manor crowded outside to enjoy the temperate northern weather. The adults chattered while the young flittered about.

Alidorim and Julian had been speaking amicably about the Dragonborn's travels when they spotted the children. The boys telling a story while pantomiming in overly dramatic fashion. Yulia and Cloe were laughing hysterically at the performance. Julian smiled as he watched the group. "She seems to be feeling better."

"She does," Alidorim agreed. Cleaned and wearing proper clothing no one would've suspected the girl of suffering so much recent torment.

"Cloe and Rudi have really taken to her," the man commented a hint of melancholy in his voice, "There will be tears in the morning." Alidorim didn't respond. He didn't have too. It wasn't just the other children Yulia had endeared herself too. Maddy doted upon her constantly, and Sebas found her engaging once her speech had improved.

"You are good people," Alidorim said not taking his eyes off the girl. He had promised to find her a proper home. The crossing was as good as any. "Yulia deserves those in her life." Human eyes met Draconic and Olkith continued. "I am an adventurer. This life...is not for her. She needs a place to call home. That is something I cannot give her." At least here Alidorim knew Yulia would be tended to. She had friends and people who cared about her well-being. She could have a normal childhood, and Aldorim could continue on his own journey.

"She can't stay." Julian's quick response caused the Dragonborn to blink in surprise. Before he could demand an explanation the human spoke. "My family gets by on river commerce and what few travelers come through. But that's just it. We get by." He looked imploringly at the warrior, hoping he would appreciate what he was saying. "Another mouth to feed..." He shook his head, "We simply cannot allow her to stay."

Alidorim heard Julian's words, but couldn't help but sense they weren't all that weighed upon his mind. He'd seen that while the residence had been welcoming to the pair, their bias's lurked beneath the surface. It was little things, a flinch at a touch, or an averted gaze, but those details spoke volumes. "Because she is not human?" It wasn't a question he needed answered, but knew he had to hear it.

Julian had the decency to look ashamed. He was even apologetic as he said, "I will not deny her being a Tiefling...complicates things."

"That wasn't an issue the night of the storm," Alidorim growled.

"She was a child in need," he said quickly, but earnestly. Julian met his eyes and slowly shook his head with utter finality. It seemed he would not be moved on the issue. Deep down Alidorim couldn't help but feel the distant pang of betrayal.

"She's still in need," he hissed, doing his best to keep his voice low. Alidorim knew he shouldn't have expected them to take the girl off of his hands, but to deny Yulia simply because of her species... Yulia was a Tiefling; descended from daemons. Like Alidorim none would ever see past her appearance. The crossing would not accept her. There may be others who would. Perhaps some of her own kind, but for now Alidorim was still her Guardian.

Julian looked up at him with a mixture of sympathy and dignity. "It would seem, she already has what she needs." And with that, the man left.

Alidorim didn't know what to make of Julian's words. What Yulia needed was a place to call home and family to love her. Not an endless road fraught with peril with only a disgraced adventurer to guide her. What did he know about raising children?

As he watched Yulia looked in his direction, smiled and waved. He nodded by way of reply. Today, she was happy. Tonight, she would seek comfort from her night terrors. In the morning, she would leave the crossing, weeping for lost friends. "But tonight...you are happy," he growled, wondering when his actions would bring her further heartache.

Yulia was asleep in the improvised carrier when they left the following morning. Alidorim had awoken before the sun to avoid the residence of the manor. He wasn't sure he could stomach to look upon them. Yulia barely whimpered as he slipped the carrier and pack onto his shoulders and marched out into the courtyard. At the gate, he met Julian. The man didn't bid him farewell or safe journeys. He merely offered a hand and held the gate open. Alidorim shook, suppressing the growl when the man still cringed at the touch.

Just like Everlund Alidorim couldn't put enough distance between the crossing and himself. The only take away from their stay was Yulia's health and what few supplies the residence had been willing to spare.

"A shame they couldn't spare a warm hearth for a desperate child," he grumbled aloud.

"Alidorim?" Yulia mumbled. The sun was just peaking over the horizon as the Tiefling roused. The crossing had long faded behind several turns in the road. "We leave already?" she asked rubbing at her tired eyes.

"Yes," he answered simply, doing his best to keep the resentment out of his voice. He'd expected tears. He'd expected anguish and perhaps a yearning to go back. Yulia was still a youngling after all. How would he explain to her that the people at the crossing didn't want them? How could he tell her at the end of the day they weren't accepted because they were inhuman?

Yulia's response stopped him in his tracks. "Good," she said through a yawn.

"_Good_?" Glancing over his shoulder at her, Alidorim asked, "Didn't you want to stay with your friends?"

After rubbing her eyes Yulia responded. "They good. I... _puww_-miss them, but," despite her dreariness, the girl managed to look uneasy. Alidorim nodded for her to continue. "Humans...see us..._syurv_-weird." Her face reddened before adding, "They speak... _fqdh_-ugly things...when they _zmulc_-think...I no...understand."

Yulia's speech had improved while at the settlement. Though broken and she struggled with certain words, her meaning was clear. "They said bad things behind our backs, eh?" Alidorim asked not even bothering to keep the cynicism from his voice.

They started walking again and Yulia continued to speak. She bounced between common and infernal but Alidorim had no problem following her. "Maddy...nice to us," she said with a smile, "Sebas nice to us. Cloe and Rudi nice." He felt her wrinkle her nose and heard the pout in her voice. "Other humans...ugly."

Alidorim couldn't agree more, but he didn't want Yulia to focus on the bad. Even he had to admit there was goodness to be had. "Tell me about the games you played." He could feel the smile light up her face and soon she launched into a torrent of stories and tales of her time with the children. In her excitement, she slipped back into her native tongue, but Olkith didn't mind. He was happy that she was happy. Given their time together he was even able to comprehend some of what she said.

At noon they paused to eat in the shadow of a tree. As they ate Alidorim noticed his companion was looking pensive. She was clearly in deep thought as she barely nibbled at her food. He had to say her name twice before gaining her attention. "What is it?"

"Thinking...of Cloe and Rudi," she replied, "They say...you my...father." Alidorim felt his hackles rise but said nothing. "What is a...father?"

Alidorim stared at her for a moment before looking off into the distance. He wasn't sure how to respond. Hells he wasn't even sure what a father was himself. Memories of his own were distant and faded by time. Olkith had been contemplating the bark of log when he felt Yulia poke the side of his head.

"Alidorim...okay?"

The Dragonborn nodded. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before finally saying, "A father is...a man who...raises you, and...teaches you right from wrong."

"A father is...a _zyitmyr_-a teacher?" Yulia confirmed.

"Yes. He also...protects you when you can't," he added.

"A father is...a... _sirruar_-a warrior?" she asked.

"I...suppose."

"Fathers are Smart? Brave?" She asked, light dancing behind her eyes as her mind made connections. "Fathers are...good?"

Alidorim swallowed. "They are supposed to be," he said nervously anticipating where Yulia's thoughts were taking them.

"So...Alidorim...my father?"

The Dragonborn blinked several times. He could've kicked himself for unknowingly painting himself in that light. "I-I...I'm not...uh..." he sputtered, "Well you see...I'm not the one who raised you. You have a Father and Mother who did."

"Mother?" Yulia asked curiously, "Mother is...like, father?"

Once again Alidorim considered his next words. He'd already dug himself in deep and had no desire to go any further. "Yes," he said finally, "A mother is a woman who...made you and...cared for you." Hoping to derail the conversation he attempted to shift the line of questioning. "Do you have a word for that?" he asked hastily.

Yulia froze for a moment before nodding. Suddenly her earlier energy was tempered by sadness. Olkith could almost see the gloom form over her head. Wrapping her arms around her legs she mumbled, "..._Pazmyr_...and _oizmyr_..."

Alidorim's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, and dread stabbed ice-cold into his gut. The same words Yulia screamed during the night. The very words that were etched with grief and anguish. She had been crying out for her mother and father all along.

"Your..._pazmyr_ and _oizmyr_," he ventured cautiously mindful of the trembling in the girl's chin. "They raised you?" Yulia nodded, "And...they are gone?" She nodded again, tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. "And...Urcis," the dead man he'd found in the clearing, "he took care of you?" Yulia started to nod, but then dropped her head to her knees. Her shoulders shook as she wept. Alidorim closed his eyes feeling the cold knife twist painfully.

Her parents were dead then...along with her only guardian. Yulia was well and truly alone. All she had in this world now was one lowly adventurer. The Tiefling cried and Alidorim let her expend her grief. He didn't want her to be sad, but he had no idea how to help her. Should he hold her? Talk to her? What could he do that could assuage the raw grief that radiated off of the poor girl?

"Al-Alidorim?" Yulia sobbed, "I-I know...y-you not...my _oizmyr_." She looked up at him with tear-soaked black eyes. The knife twisted all the more. "B-but...can I...call you...father?" Her voice was filled with such quiet despair that it broke his heart. Yulia had lost so much that she was desperate to have some small part of her old life back. Something familiar, to cling to if only symbolically.

Very slowly he nodded. The Tiefling didn't smile, as Alidorim expected. As Yulia wrapped her arms around his neck the tears flowed all the harder. "T-t-_tmilchaf_," she blubbered over and over, her tiny body quivering. "_Tmilchaf_...f-f-father."

The lump came unbidden to his throat and his heart fluttered beneath his breast. His face flushed with unexpected embarrassment. Unlike with Julian and the other humans at the crossing, there was no flinch or hesitation in the child's touch. It was warm, strong, and accepting. So, this...was what it felt like to be hugged.

"_I don't deserve it, girl_," he thought in a mixture of bitterness and longing, "_Let's hope we_ _find someone who does_."


	11. Chapter 10 Crossroads

**Chapter 10: Crossroads**

Boundless. That would be the word Alidorim would use to describe Yulia. Keeping an eye on her was more exhausting than the journey. Despite the many miles they had walked she still moved with limitless speed and energy. If she wasn't attempting to climb a tree she was chasing after some poor animal that happened across the path.

"There you are," he called out as the Teifling stumbled out of a bush onto her backside.

Unembarrassed she flashed the Dragonborn a toothy smile. "_Hydda_ Father!"

It had been several days, and he still wasn't used to the title. "I told you to stay in sight," he grumbled, "Did you forget?"

Standing Yulia moved to walk beside him. "I chase a butterfly," she explained making grand gestures, "but it get away. But I almost caught rabbit-"

The Dragonborn's fingers pinched her mouth shut mid-sentence. "We mustn't be separated on the road," he warned, "You need to remain within my sight."

Julia pushed his hand away and smiled again. "_Yyw_, I will." She turned and started running again saying, "but not all the time." Alidorim groaned inwardly. It was fortunate he was longer-legged then the girl or she'd outpace him for sure. Laughing Yulia approached the edge of the road near a hill. "Where you at, rabbit?" she asked casting about the bushes. No luck there she moved forward. Yulia was nearing the crest when Alidorim heard her gasp. "Look father!" she yelled pointing and jumping in excitement.

Below them was the town of Triboar, according to the map. Even from a distance, Alidorim could tell it was a lively crossroads settlement full of the hustle and bustle of roaming merchants, caravanners and other travelers. The landscape surrounding the town was lush and well-suited for farming.

"A city!" Yulia exclaimed, "We go visit?" As if there was any other option. Triboar sat on a crossroads. It featured a vast marketplace where local farmers, ranchers, and roadside salespeople offered their wares. It would be the last major settlement they would encounter before reaching Neverwinter. They would need to restock on supplies if they hoped to make it.

The market was packed by the time they arrived. Though he saw no other Dragonborn or Teiflings, Alidorim and Yulia barely stuck out. Humans, Near Humans, and Inhumans mixed during the town's commerce. Yulia was awestruck no matter which direction she looked. Olkith wondered if she'd ever seen a place like Triboar before. "This the biggest City I see," she answered his unasked question.

It was certainly the most prosperous town Alidorim had ever seen. But greater prosperity usually meant greater danger. He was about to warn Yulia about straying too far when he caught sight of her. The girl was squatting next to a cat sunbathing and poking at it curiously. Alidorim kept his grumbles low. She was still a child after all. Sighing he called out to her.

Yulia turned, holding her stomach. Her expression was almost queasy. "Father, I hungry."

Sighing again, Alidorim figured they could spare some coin for a decent meal. Gods knew he'd like one after days of trail rations and the odd bit of wild game. According to a local, the Northshield House was the most reasonable accommodation for those just passing through. The Inn was tidy and unassuming. Once seated Alidorim asked for the most affordable meal.

"Two daily specials it is," the serving wench proclaimed.

The special ended up being mushroom stuffed bottom-feeder. Yulia looked uncertain but once Alidorim began eating his meal, she delved into her own. After the first tentative bite, her eyes lit up and she began scarfing it. The server was pleasant enough, though a little invasive with her questions. As it turned out Dragonborn weren't an uncommon sight along the Sword Coast but paired with Tiefling, and a young one like that naturally drew attention.

"Where will ya'll be spending the night?" She asked.

"Outside the city," he stated flatly. The people were nice enough but less time he was in such a crowded place the better.

The server actually looked dumbfounded. "You sure about that? It's not safe," she looked nervously between the Dragonborn and Yulia, "besides you have a young one."

Alidorim made sure his blades were clearly visible. "We will manage." But the server would not be assuaged. She hastily brought out the Inn's owner and explained the situation. The plump dark-skinned man rubbed his chin in thought before saying, "We have a room to spare."

"I'm afraid we-" he started to say they couldn't afford the cost of a room even for a night, but the Owner was one step ahead.

"I have some supplies that need moving. That will be the cost of your room and meal. Besides," he bent down and smiled at Yulia who was heartily enjoying the last few bites of her food. "The little one likes my cooking."

'Some supplies' ended up being two wagonloads of crates and bags. Yulia watched nibbling on some treats the server had brought her. It was sunset by the time he finished. It was strenuous, but labor for a warm, dry place to sleep? It wasn't even a choice.

The room was simple, consisting of only a bed and table topped by a lantern. There was a narrow window that looked out on the street. Yulia bounced on the featherdown mattress giggling in joy. Compared to the wilderness, this place was high class. Staying in the Inn wasn't part of the plan, but Olkith would adapt. At least they still had the coin to spare.

Down on the street, the locals went about their business. Merchant stalls were closing, and street lamps were being lit. Turning back Alidorim saw the bed was vacant. Glancing down he spied a pair of tiny legs sticking out from beneath the frame. "What're you doing?"

"_Egedarulq_...umm...exploring," she replied kicking her legs to get further in. Alidorim often found her behavior inexplicable. Almost random, yet strangely endearing. "I happy we stay here," she said, "I going to have fun!" Even with the mattress muffling her voice, there was no masking her enthusiasm.

"You are?" he questioned dropping his pack at the foot of the bed.

"Yes. Aren't you?"

Alidorim merely grunted in response. He supposed a child would find joy in staying in a cheap Inn. It was just another adventure to her. The Dragonborn was just starting to remove his armor when he heard the Teifling squeak. "Umm...father...I stuck." The Dragonborn managed to ease the girl out from beneath the frame but now without ripping a hole in her cloak's hood. Yulia was apologetic, but Olkith waved it off. They had no spare clothing, thus any damage would make their travel more difficult. Fortunately, Alidorim was used to repairing his own gear, Yulia's would be no different.

"We have an early morning," he stated pulling out a small sewing kit, "Get some sleep."

"No," She pouted crossing her arms, "I stay up with you."

"Sleep Yulia," he growled warningly.

"I not tired, father," she grumbled jutting her chin in a way that reminded Alidorim of the dwarf back in Everlund. He glared down at the girl, who stared stubbornly back up at him.

The Dragonborn hadn't completed his sixth cross-stitch before the Tieflings eyelids drooped. By the time he finished the repair, Yulia was snoring softly. He covered them both with the blanket and drifted off himself.

"Thank you, father!" Yulia exclaimed as she dawned her freshly mended cloak. Alidorim shrugged. It was a simple fix after all. He would have to teach Yulia how to cross-stitch. It was a useful skill to have. "What us doing today?" she asked cheerfully.

"We need to restock our supplies," he replied dawning his own cloak and backpack.

Yulia cheered. "We going shopping!" she cried out. Alidorim had to hurry to follow her giddy form out of the room. At least one of them was looking forward to the market. He couldn't help but wonder if the joy of shopping was a Tiefling attribute...or a female one.

The sun was bright as they perused the stalls of Triboar's expansive market. Merchants and families alike were out in force that day. Alidorim hoped the girl wouldn't strain her neck by how much she snapped it about. He'd have to keep an eye on her for sure.

The first purchase of the day was additional food for the trip. Next some herbs for their medical kit. As he haggled with the merchants, Yulia became engrossed with the wares of the other stalls. If it wasn't the plumage of an exotic bird, it was a man showing off handcrafted trinkets.

Alidorim had started to leave when he noticed, Yulia wasn't at his side. Looking back, he saw the girl was staring at the crowded square. There stood a long-limbed half-orc in the midst of a rather impressive juggling act. But it was the feat that drew the girl's attention. Yulia was staring at the people which consisted mostly of parents with children. The area was filled with laughter and smiles. There was no mistaking the longing in her eyes.

"Yulia?" he said, gaining her attention. "One more stop...then we can see about watching the juggler." She glanced back at the crowd before nodding.

The Lion's Share was their final stop for the day. There were many stores in Triboar that bought and sold wears, but only locally. The Lion's Share was part of a chain of stores that traded up and down the coast. Over the course of their journey, Alidorim had built up an inventory of furs, semi-precious stones, and wild herbs. He'd hoped to sell or trade them in order to refill their depleting funds.

"Not enough," Alidorim said to the merchant. "Those furs would go for double in Everlund. And those stones triple in Sundabar."

The human behind the counter shrugged in apology. His opulent robes did little to cover the folds of fat beneath. "That may be true," the man said, "But I'm afraid these stones are quite common around here."

And yet Alidorim had seen none for sale at any of the stalls he'd visited. He was no fool. He'd checked with local trappers and prospectors. Olkith knew exactly what he was selling. The Merchant was trying to undercut him. Everything about him annoyed the Dragonborn, from his pudgy cheeks to the gaudy feather in his hat. Even the way he lazily slid the meager stack of coins across the counter boiled his blood.

"I think you'll find this amount more than fair," he said, attempting to grin pleasantly but the expression looked more like an ugly smirk. If Julia wasn't nearby Alidorim would've throttled the man for his blatant act of disparity. As it was the child's mere presence tempered his anger.

"Fine," The Dragonborn sighed and started to reach for the coins. At the last moment, his hand shifted over and grabbed a large jewel on the counter.

"What are you doing?" the man demanded, attempting to snatch the red gem back, but at a growl from the warrior the merchant backed off. "Please, sir, that's a very precious item. All the way from the tombs of Anauoch."

"Doubtful," Olkith said making the man gulp nervously. The Dragonborn turned the stone over and over in his hand admiring each angle as the light reflected and refracted off his crystalline surface. "I had a companion who fancied himself quite the jeweler. He always knew the real ones from the fake." Alidorim over-turned his hand and the merchant squealed in outrage as the gem plummeted to the floor. The moment its elongated corner struck the hard surface in shattered in a cascade of red shards.

"Glass," Alidorim declared glaring at a very anxious fat man. Grabbing another stone, this time a sapphire Olkith growled, "I'm willing to bet a lot of your wares are as fake as that smile of yours." He dropped the sapphire. It joined the gem in a growing pile of fragments. The merchant looked as if he was torn between screaming and crying. "I doubt the Merchant Guild would enjoy hearing about you cheating your customers." He picked up and dropped another useless rock in the form of a ruby. It too disintegrated against the stone.

"Fine! Here's your coin!" the man shouted depositing three additional stacks of currency.

Alidorim took the money, assessed its weight before dropping it in his purse. The merchant was red-faced with tears intermingling with sweat. If looks could kill, then the Dragonborn would've been cut in half. Part of him considered turning him in on general principle. But that would take time, and the man had already wasted enough of his.

"Time to go Yulia." No response. He turned and the spot where she had been sitting was vacant. He looked around the shop, but other than the disgruntled merchant the store was empty.


	12. Chapter 11 Search

**Chapter 11: Search**

"_Stupid, stupid_!" Alidorim thought savagely. Yulia had been entirely too quiet. That should've been his first clue. Instead of focusing on the swindler, he should've been paying closer attention to the girl. Of course, she would've gotten bored and wandered off. Just like in the market and before that in the wilds. When something caught her eye, Yulia was almost compelled to investigate.

Out on the street he carefully scanned his surroundings. Yulia was small, so she wouldn't have gotten far. Sure, enough he caught a glimpse of her red hair and cloak whipping out of sight down an ally. Alarm bells sounded in his mind. What could have possibly drawn her there?

Alidorim took off at a sprint. The crowd was dense and those that didn't move were barreled over. He ignored the curses and offered no apologies. Reaching the alley, he had to brace against the wall to keep from crashing into it. There was no sign of the girl. He hurried down the narrow way, noting no open doors or exits that she could've disappeared in to.

Reaching the end of the alley he crossed a wide street. He paused long enough to ask a group of workers if they'd seen Yulia. One man said he saw a girl matching her description pass through. "Was she alone?" he inquired.

The man shook his head. "Was following some stray cat."

A...cat? He recalled Yulia's fascination with the sunbathing cat from the previous morning. That girl and her curiosity were sure to get her in trouble, or worse hurt. When he found her, the scolding was going to be legendary.

Alidorim sprinted off in the direction the worker had indicated. He came to a stairway that the warrior cleared in a single jump. The moment he landed Olkith spotted the Tiefling several meters down the lane. She was standing outside a doorway. Before he could call out to her Yulia was yanked across the threshold. He could just hear her cry of alarm before it was cut off by a slamming door.

Terror filled every fiber of his being. It felt like the ground had shifted beneath him and he had no way of maintaining control. For a brief moment, Alidorim was sure he saw a human-sized arm covered in fur reach out and grab her.

Yulia had not merely wandered off. She had been kidnapped!

The Dragonborn ran to where he last saw her. It was a heavy door fixed into a high wall. Another alley entrance, perhaps? No, the opening at the top was too wide. So, a closed-in courtyard. Somehow, he had to find a way around or through.

"Why so pale, child?" a raspy voice purred. Alidorim stiffened at the strange tone of voice. "You were persistent. I like persistence in my kids."

Whoever or whatever was with Yulia, by their nature alone they meant her ill. Alidorim had to get to her and fast. But how damn it?

There was a rustle of fabric and he heard Yulia squeak in fear. "A Tiefling," the voice growled in surprise. "A pretty one at that. How delightful."

The wall was too high to climb, and he couldn't be certain if the buildings to either side opened onto the courtyard. The Dragonborn needed to improvise. Yulia was running out of time.

The girl murmured something, but Olkith couldn't hear it over the pounding in his chest. "You smell...interesting, child." There was a hunger to the way the thing spoke. It was as if drool dripped off each syllable.

Alidorim examined the door; iron-rimmed but the elements hadn't done the craftwork any favors.

"Your scent reminds me of..." There was a sniffing sound and Yulia whimpered again. "Giblets and gravy," It sighed rapturously.

Alidorim reared back and launched a foot forward. In a spray of splinters and shattered metal the door split and crashed inward. He charged in shouting, "Yulia!" Bits of the door were still flying as he entered the courtyard. The warrior had only an instant to process what he saw. Yulia, on the ground, clutching at herself, tears streaming down her cheeks. Leering over her was some twisted bastardization of a human and cat. Its patchwork fur was matted, but its claws were extended and sharp.

"Get away!" he bellowed. His words reverberated off the stone wall crashing upon the beast. The werecats fur stood on end as its eyes flickered with a savage intensity. Needle-like teeth flashed as it hissed in a challenge.

"Get your own, scaly!" The werecat spat angrily. Its shoulders bunched as it lunged at the Dragonborn. Alidorim stepped into the assault turning his weapon-draw into an attack. The beast was unprepared for such an aggressive strike. It howled and recoiled as fur parted and blood streamed down its chest. It back-peddled clutching at its wound. Alidorim used that time to place himself between Yulia and the threat. He dared not glance back at her lest he open his defenses.

Light glinted off the werecat's visage of outrage as it contemplated its own blood. "You son of a whore!" it shouted. Enraged it leaped again, much faster than before. Alidorim side stepped drawing and chopping down with his arming-sword.

The werecats pained yowling echoed louder than Alidorim's war cry. In agony, the werecat clutched at the stump where a moment before his right hand had been. Fear replaced where once had been anger and outrage. The Dragonborn didn't give him an opportunity to reconsider his choice to fight.

This stalker of innocence. This...monster deserved to die.

Roaring an incoherent battle-cry Alidorim brought both weapons across in a horizontal slash. The werecat's look of fear and surprise was permanently etched onto its face as it departed from its shoulders. Its body collapsed in a lifeless slump. The head rolled off to stare blankly at a section of wall.

Alidorim gave the twitching corpse no more consideration than he would a pile of dung. Sheathing his weapons, he finally turned to check on Yulia. He was surprised to feel the wind knocked out of him as a tiny form crash into his midsection.

"Th-thank you," the Tiefling mumbled, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, "You-you there when I need you. Thankyou f-father."

Even though he wanted so desperately to admonish her for wandering off Alidorim couldn't bring himself to do it. He was just relieved he'd gotten to her in time. A reprimand would come later but for now Yulia safe.

Picking her up, the Dragonborn wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Let's...go back to the Inn," he said. The Tiefling only offered a quivering smile and a small nod. On the way back she would offer an endless stream of apologies in both common and infernal. Alidorim listened but didn't respond. He just appreciated hearing her voice.

As it turned out, the werecat had been abducting children in the area for months. It used its feline form to lure the naive and curious away before trapping them. It focused mainly on those children belonging to travelers so as to not rile the locals too much. If Alidorim had deigned to check the message boards across town, he would've seen the Wanted Posters. It was a mistake they couldn't afford to make again, and a lesson most painfully learned.

By presenting the werecats head to the Triboar Militia Captain the Dragonborn was able to collect a tidy sum. It was enough to stay another night at the Inn with a few more quality meals. Olkith also bought Yulia a dagger to go with her extra clothes. For sure he would have to teach her how to use it. The road was still long with plenty of perils.

It was a blessing that Alidorim had been able to arrive when he did. According to the Captain of the Guard, what that thing did to the children...death would've been a mercy. The Captain thanked him for getting justice for the families who'd lost loved ones. Alidorim couldn't bring himself to say that their children were still dead and that the dead cared little about justice. At least there was one less monster in the world.

By the time they left Yulia had mostly recovered from her ordeal. If she was even phased by Alidorim's admonishments she didn't show it either. The lecture he'd given her had indeed been impressive as even the Innkeeper had cringed at the sound of it. She was currently ambling along beside him attempting to balance a stick atop her palm. Her resilience was frustrating but also commendable. It was quickly becoming apparent to Alidorim that children tended to act spontaneously in the presence of things that sparked their curiosity. And Yulia was always curious.

"Father?" Yulia asked still focused on her stick. She did have a remarkable balance. "How you..._oulv_-find me...so fast?"

Alidorim grunted before answering. "I noticed how you tend to leave my sight when something catches your eye." He glanced down at her, "I knew you couldn't have gotten far in that time. But to be honest...I got lucky."

"Lucky..." she slowly repeated the unfamiliar phrase.

The Dragonborn considered how to define the word. "Events...worked out in my favor," he explained. Yulia nodded when she understood. Alidorim stopped and looked down at the girl. The stick clattered to the ground. "You getting lost again is unacceptable, Yulia," he stated seriously, "No more leaving my sight without permission. Ulvyrwzaav-understood?"

Yulia smiled, placing her hands upon her hips. Nodding she replied, "I stay with you, except sometimes."

Alidorim sighed in exasperation. Her cheekiness might have been cute, but it was also maddening. "You're missing the point, Yulia." With that, he extended a hand to the girl. She looked at the massive scaly palm in confusion. "Take my hand," he said, "If you're holding my hand you can't wander off without my knowing." He'd noticed a number of the adults in Triboar had done something similar with varying degrees of success.

Yulia swallowed and looked a little flushed as her tiny hand enveloped one of Alidorim's fingers. "Like...this, Father?"

He nodded and they began walking again. Almost immediately Yulia attempted to chase after another butterfly but was jerked to a halt by her grip on Olkith's hand. Alidorim was already starting to see the advantage. It inhibited her spontaneity to a degree. Unfortunately, it hampered his movements as well. He would have to come up with some other means of controlling her. He was considering a smaller version of a harness or leash when Yulia spoke.

"Father?" she asked shyly.

"Yes, Yulia."

She looked up at him. Beneath the shadow of her hood, Yulia's black eyes and wide smile showed with such brightness and warmth. "I like...holding hands." Alidorim felt a heat in his cheeks and his heart flipped at her expression of happiness. His mind discarded the leash concept, for now. Perhaps they could hold hands...for just a bit longer.


	13. Chapter 12 Healer

**Chapter 12: Healer**

Cloth rustled as a still drowsy Tiefling stepped out into the cool air. Red hair stuck out in every direction as tiny hands rubbed at drooping eyelids. Other than her yawn the soft burbling of flowing water permeated the fading gloom. A light breeze tossed red curls they now reached to her shoulders.

"It...still nighttime?" she asked pulling her cloak tight about her.

From his post near the tent, Alidorim shook his head before nodding towards the distant mountains. Yulia turned just in time to watch as purple clouds brightened to pink. The first golden rays swelled over the peaks until they lanced across the sky. Yulia sighed as the new dawn warmed her pale skin.

It was time to begin the day.

A few days after leaving Triboar the pair had discovered a secluded clearing near a free-flowing creek. With the weather remaining agreeable they decided to take a long rest. Once he'd built a proper shelter Alidorim constructed a fish trap in the creek and by morning had caught four decent sized trout.

Using the skills Alidorim had taught her, Yulia was able to pull a fish out of the trap. He then showed her how to start a cooking fire. Soon they had a blaze with Yulia looking thoroughly impressed. She wanted to make an attempt but Alidorim shook his head. For now, they would gather plants along the creek until the flames stabilized. Yulia pouted at first but quickly took to her task with gusto.

Once the fish was cooked Yulia took a bite but quickly jerked her mouth back when it scalded her lips. She blew on it several times before going in for a larger chomp. Alidorim warned her to be careful. "_Na_, _na_. It too good to go slow." The Dragonborn sighed again. He found himself doing that a lot recently. The girl simply hadn't the sense to be cautious.

They ate their breakfast in silence listening to the sounds of the stream and the winds in the trees. A rustle in the bushes immediately drew their attention. Alidorim's hand went to his hip, but it quickly fell away when a saw a wild rabbit eyeing them. Yulia started to say something but Olkith hushed her. "It was probably drawn out by the smell of our meal." Slowly he pulled a bit of the wild veggies they'd found and tossed them towards the rabbit. It approached cautiously before snatching up the food. Yulia smiled as her father tossed a second piece and then a third, steadily drawing the creature closer until it finally stood within arm's reach. After placing some food in Yulia's hand he eased her arm out. The rabbit contemplated it for a moment before hopping forward. The Tiefling's look was ecstatic. She gingerly pets the creature as it nibbles out of her palm.

Alidorim was so distracted by the scene he didn't notice the second rabbit sneaking up. It snags an elongated mushroom from their basket and eloped out of arms reach. "That my honey mushroom!" Alidorim couldn't help but chuckle at Yulia's exclamation of outrage. The rabbit took off with its prize, Yulia in hot pursuit. "Give back thief!" The critter easily outpaced her, but he had to credit the girl for trying. Alidorim was about to caution her of running on the uneven ground when her foot caught on a stone. She went down with a soft 'oomph'. Another sigh of exasperation.

By the time he'd risen and gone to her, Yulia had gotten to her feet. He asked if she was hurt. Though looking embarrassed she shook her head. I wasn't until they both noticed the red stain spreading across her knee that she reacted. Her eyes squeezed shut and her tiny hands clenched shakily.

Alidorim scooped up the girl and sat her next to the fire. Easing up the trouser leg he was able to inspect the injury. After dousing it with cold water he pressed a clean rag to it.

"Father?" Yulia mumbled, "It...hurt." Her eyes were filled to the brim with tears and every word quivered in tandem with her chin. "_Iz wfvvyldh_...it hurt a lot."

He swallowed a nervous lump when he realized the pressure wasn't stopping the bleeding. He had no herbs to heal it, only alleviate discomfort. He'd used the last of their medicines to treat a fever she'd developed after leaving Triboar. It had abated quickly but not before depleting most of their supplies. Alidorim mentally visualized the map and knew of no towns or settlements within walking distance.

Worry crept into his mind as he continued to cover the wound. Glancing at the still crackling fire, he knew of one way to stop the bleeding... His anxiety doubled at imagining Yulia's agonized expression, but what other choice did he have?

"'Ello the camp!" a voice called out. Alidorim pivoted on his knee drawing his knife, while also placing himself between Yulia and the...

...Old woman? Alidorim blinked several times. "Where did you come from?" he demanded. Elderly or not the Dragonborn wasn't about to underestimate her, especially not after Triboar. After all, what would an old woman be doing in the forest all alone? She could be a hag in disguise or a decoy for bandits, yet Alidorim sensed no malice or ill intent. Interestingly the new arrival didn't seem distressed by his weapon. She gave it no more concern then if he were waving a flower.

The woman held up open palms. "I noticed your camp smoke," she explained with a pleasant smile, "I was trying to pass by unnoticed when I overheard the child get hurt." With that, she approached and held out her hand. Up close Alidorim realized that while possessing greying hair and wrinkled skin, she had the physicality of someone much younger. "I am Gwynn," she said.

Perceiving no hostility from her Olkith lowered his knife and took the offered hand. She didn't flinch. He introduced himself and Yulia who was trying to hide her tears from the stranger. The woman, Adabra noticed the girl's discomfort and hastily moved to inspect. She started to reach for the bandage when she paused and looked a question at Alidorim. Reluctantly the Dragonborn nodded. After slowly removing the bandage she said in a soft voice, "That looks painful," she said in a soft voice. After a closer examination, she added, "Let's see...It's not too bad, so," she reached into her pack and pulled out a vial filled with a green liquid, "This should do the trick."

Catching her arm, he glared at the contents. "What is that?" he asked sharply.

"Ointment." She stated a bit perturbed, but her expression quickly softened. "Leave this to me, dear. I'm a local midwife and an acolyte of Chauntae." She smiled at him earnestly. "Making medicine from nature is what I do." Slowly he released her but kept a close watch. Though his instincts said she could be trusted, he allowed himself a small amount of skepticism.

Adabra upended the bottle over a fresh bandage until it was reasonably damp. "This'll sting a little," she cooed, "Can you be strong for me?" Yulia nodded, and the woman rubbed her cheek tenderly. "That's a brave girl." She pressed the doused fabric to the injury. Yulia flinched but didn't pull away, barely managing to stifle a whine. As Gwynn expertly wrapped the leg she asked, "You're a Tiefling eh?" Yulia nodded again. "A Dragonborn with a Tiefling kid. What a funny combination!" She looked like the notion did indeed amuse her. What an odd woman.

"There," she said tying off the bandage, "all done." Yulia still looked pained but at least the bleeding had stopped. After giving her some capsaicin leaf to chew on for the pain, Adabra looked up at the Dragonborn. "You'll want to get it properly looked. I have more supplies at my lodgings. It's not far." She pointed westward.

Alidorim considered her offer. While he was far from trusting the stranger, she hadn't done anything to earn his ire. While Yulia was young and would heal quickly, the pain was something she shouldn't have to bear. There was no guarantee the wound would stay closed, and even with the pain reliever, Yulia couldn't put weight on her leg. Another consideration was that the woman's camp was in the same general direction as their destination. He finally acquiesced, nodding his appreciation.

"Hmm," Adabra was eyeing the Dragonborn up and down. The level of scrutiny was enough to make him feel self-conscious. "While we're there I'd like to get a good look at you." At his eyebrow arched, she added, "We don't see many of your kind around here."

The woman's request was odd. Aside from the injury sustained back in Evermoor he hadn't any wounds that required tending. Leary but curious, he nodded again.


	14. Chapter 13 Ranch

**Chapter 13: Ranch**

A couple of hours down the road the forest split to reveal an open valley. Nestled between two hills was a large two-story house, surrounded by two tilled fields, an impressive orchard, a large garden, and a pasture. Atop his shoulder, Yulia gawked at the view. "You live here?"

Adabra shakes her head as they approached a sign that read 'Butterskull Ranch.' "I live further southwest," she explained. They proceeded up the laneway that bisected the fields. "Gathering certain herbs takes me far abroad. In exchange for medicines the owner lets me rent a room when I'm in the area." At the mention of cost, Alidorim wondered what he'd have to spend to stay in such a place. Catching his look of ambiguity Gwynn added, "I'm sure he'll extend the same courtesy to you." Alidorim responded with a grunt.

As they passed the gardens Yulia excitedly pointed out everything she saw from her vantage point. Pigs, chickens, horses, and cows. Four human farmhands paused in their various chores to wave at the Mid-wife. They hesitated at the sight of her companions. Alidorim wasn't encouraged by their distrustful expressions.

As they neared the main house a fit man, thick with age approached them. Adabra introduced them to the Ranch's owner, Alfonse Kalazorn. Alidorim inclined his head but didn't offer his hand. The Rancher didn't look keen on taking it anyway. The man eyed the Dragonborn and Yulia for some time before saying, "Ada I let you stay here because you pay with things we need. I don't do charity."

Alidorim suppressed the growl that built in his chest. He was about to speak when the old woman cut in, "The child's hurt. I was just going to tend to her." Alfonse crossed his arms. It was only after Gwynn offered to amend their deal with additional medicinal items and a free check-up on his animals that he finally relented.

"Fine, but you're confined to the house," he said. His eyes zeroed on Alidorim's claws as much as Yulia's horns. "I don't need you scaring my animals." It was clear Alfonse didn't care if his words were offensive. Neither was he clear on which of them would actually scare his animals.

"Bless you, Al," she crowed before ushering them toward the house. Adabra didn't appear affected by the Rancher's attitude in the slightest. Alidorim thanked her and offered assurance he would recoup her losses. The midwife smiled. "He's a bit of a grump, but Al's a big softy. Now," she beamed up at Yulia, "let's get you looked at dear."

The kitchen was massive, dominated by a large wood stove for heat, a kiln for baking, and a grill for meats and boiling. It was filled with all the accouterments for preparing meals for multiple hungry people. A tall wry man wearing, an apron was hard at work kneading dough.

He greeted Adabra, who in turn introduced her guests. "I'm Tevon," he said with an elegant bow that made Yulia giggle. He smiled at them cheerfully enough, nowhere near as gruff as his employer at least.

As Tevon returned to his own work, Adabra sat Yulia on a counter and went about reexamining her knee. The scrape was indeed deep, but the ointment was already helping it scab nicely. The child winced as she wiped it down with a disinfecting ointment followed by a healing salve. Finally, she applied some gauze coated in pain-relieving herbs and rewrapped the wound.

"How does that feel, dear?"

Rising slowly Yulia eased weight onto her hurt leg. She flinched in anticipation of the pain, but her expression morphed into one of surprise. Smiling she exclaimed. "It no hurt, father! No hurt at all!" Adabra smiles proudly at her work, as Yulia experimented by taking a few determined steps. Soon she was running and jumping about on her pain-free leg.

Alidorim cautioned her to take it slow, not wanting to reopen the wound.

Adabra chuckled saying, "You younglings and your energy." Yulia was about to reply when she paused. Nose twitching, she began sniffing the air. Curiously Alidorim also sniffed. His stomach rumbled. Something smelled delectable. Following their noses, the trio made their way across the kitchen where they found three plate-loads of food.

"I figured you'd be hungry after such a long walk," Tevon said. It was all Alidorim could do not to drool over the contents of his meal. A large baked potato loaded with butter, cheese, and a sprinkle of basil, paired with a massive slice of pork tenderloin topped with broccoli. The meager breakfast of cooked fish seemed like a distant memory. Tevon beamed proudly as the three of them delved into their plates.

"Tevon always makes such delicious foods," Adabra said daintily cutting and chewing bits of pork.

"You make all this," Yulia commented, mouth filled with potato. The young man smiled, looking a bit bashful. "Soooo good!" she exclaimed, "You sell in town! Make much silver!" Olkith growled a warning at her and apologized if she was being too presumptive.

"That's kind of you to say, Yulia," Tevon said. Alidorim noticed that since the cook shared the kitchen space with Adabra there was a bit of a ...overflow issue. It was difficult to tell where the food-prep ended and herbology began. Despite that, the blend of scents he detected was pleasant if a bit overwhelming. He wondered just how many types of medicines the Healer made.

As they finished eating Alidorim mustered up the courage to speak his mind. "Adabra would teach me how to make medicines?" Both the woman and man looked surprised at his question. Olkith explained that he could identify wild herbs but lacked the training to mix them effectively. The ability to make healing ointments especially when their supplies were exhausted would be invaluable in emergencies.

"It'd be my pleasure," the old woman said looking fascinated by the idea. "But in exchange," she held up a finger to indicate an addendum, "I'd still like to examine you." There was that odd request again. What was this woman's fascination with his species?

"Never took you for the creeper sort Ada," the cook said cheekily.

The older woman actually flushed with embarrassment, looking younger and more naïve for a moment. "I've never studied a Dragonborn before," she declared, waving off the implication. In a lower voice, she added, "If I ever need to heal one, I'd like to be prepared is all."

"Agreed," Alidorim grunted. An invasion of his privacy was a small price to pay if it meant expanding his skills. The Dragonborn's accord made Adabra smile triumphantly.

While Gwynn worked with Alidorim, Yulia assisted the cook with chores. Whatever Tevon had her doing, she attacked with the enthusiasm only a child could muster.

Adabra started her lesson by producing a bushel of green stemmed, yellow petaled plants. She identified them as Hypericum Erectum; a grass Alidorim had seen frequently on their journey. It happened to be the most basic herb they would need when making ointments. To start they washed it then diced it as finely as possible. Depositing them in a bowl they added 0.3 liters of water and boiled it for twenty minutes. Once it cooled it just needed to be smeared on the wound. Adabra elaborated that if he was in a hurry, Alidorim could just squeeze the leaves and use the juice.

For cold medicine, they needed Pueraria, a kind of kudzu with powerful antioxidant abilities. First, they peeled the skin off of the root and then chopped it as finely as possible. They were supposed to leave it out to dry in the sun, but fortunately, Adabra already had some prepared. The Pueraria was boiled, cooled, and ready for use.

The lessons continued until Alidorim had a firm grasp on the methods to use in order to prepare basic medicines. As an after-thought, he realized that if he made to much, he could sell them for extra cash.

He was stirring a mixture of valerian and lavender when Adabra asked, "Why did you want to learn to make medicine so much?" The question made him pause, but only briefly.

The entire time they'd worked the healer had only spoken to offer instruction. This being the first personal question since their meeting made Alidorim nervous, but he played it off with a small shrug. "To make our supplies last longer," he answered without looking at her. As her guardian, he had to do everything in his power to ensure Yulia's health. Anything could happen before he found her a proper home. He needed to be ready.

Alidorim felt the woman's eyes boring into him. He turned and flinched beneath the hard look she was casting. It reminded him of the woman back at the river crossing. But if Maddy's presence was a mace, Adabra's qualified as a battering ram.

She held it until Alidorim relented with a sigh. "When Yulia was hurt..." he recalled the expression so vividly. The muscles in her face distorted and moisture-filled her eyes. It was the same as the night of the storm. That expression disrupted his thoughts and his chest became agitated. "I don't want to see that look on Yulia's face again." He stared at the old woman, "That's why I need to learn."

Gwynn's gaze lingered for a moment longer. Adabra closed her eyes, placing a hand over her mouth. Her shoulders shook as she attempted to suppress a bout of laughter. "I think you suffered a little heartbreak dear." Alidorim glared at her erroneous statement. Over the past weeks, Yulia had elicited a number of emotions out of him to be sure. Frustration, anxiety, annoyance, and anger, but...heartbreak? Absurd!

Snorting derisively at her comment Olkith pulled the pot off the stove. Placing it on the table, he began ladling it into vials. A withered hand upon his forearm made him pause. "You didn't like seeing Yulia cry, yes?" He glared at her harder but offered no rebuke. She stifled another snicker. "You're quite kind for a Dragonborn."

Alidorim was about to retort when- "Father!" Yulia came hurdling into the room her outfit coated in dust and water. Proudly she proclaimed how she helped the cook wash the dishes and then the laundry. Next, she bragged about wiping the table and watered the garden all by herself. The girl's energy was truly boundless

Before they knew it the day had turned to dusk. As a reward for all her hard work, Tevon had made some special treats for his young helper. "Cake...more cake," the Tiefling mumbled in her sleep, "So...yummy." The cook had indeed made them quite the bountiful meal. Most went up to the bunkrooms where the ranch hands stayed. Alfonse took his meal to his private room. That still left plenty for the four of them to share. Yulia was on her fourth slice of cheesecake when she finally drifted off to sleep. Alidorim placed her on an improvised pallet in the back of the kitchen before returning to sit with the Tevon and Adabra.

Adabra smiled while the cook said, "Anyone would be tired after all that work. I'll just bunk with the hands tonight." He laughed, "Seeing her pack it in like that made me feel like I did my job well. It's nice to see kids act like kids." And with that, he retired for the night.

"Not when they act like them all the time," Alidorim thought with half-hearted frustration. He wondered how long it would be before the nightmares would wake Yulia. He'd slipped the child a teaspoon of the sleeping draft he'd made with Adabra. He hoped it would alleviate some of her night terrors.

"I've been wondering," the healer's voice interrupted his thoughts. She was sitting across from him, head cradled in hand. Her gaze was soft but curious. "What would motivate a Dragonborn to adopt a Tiefling of all things?" Alidorim pondered just how many more times he'd have to tell the story before people stopped asking.

"I promised Yulia I would find her a home," he answered, crossing his arms, "And people who will care for her." He hoped that would be the end of it, but the old woman was not dissuaded.

"And where is this home you speak of?" she asked in lower measured tones.

And that was the question. Where was home for her? It wasn't at the river crossing nor was it in Triboar. People like Alphonse and Julian made it clear she'd be unwelcome based on appearance alone. Maybe in Neverwinter? A Tiefling enclave might adopt her but ill rumors surrounded them. A temple or orphanage perhaps, but while one was underfunded the other would most likely persecute her.

Alidorim wondered if there would ever be a place for someone like Yulia. Julian had said she already had what she needed, but Olkith disagreed. She was still a child. Children didn't belong in the wilds with adventurers. They deserved to grow and have a life.

"I..." he managed to speak passed the tightness in his throat, "I...do not know."

"I see," she murmured, "I guess since your trying to find her a home, that means she hasn't one to go back to." Alidorim shook his head, unable to shake the image of a little girl crying for parents that would never come. A wrinkled hand patted his scaled one. "Yours...is a journey to say goodbye." Adabra said with solemn eyes, "That's a cruel fate."

Maybe, but staying with him would be all the crueler. Alidorim knew only one way to make the healer understand. After all, a part of their deal was that she would get to examine him. Rising he stripped off his tunic revealing his chest. The woman's look of surprise was matched only by her gasp of shock. It had been some time since the Dragonborn had looked upon a mirror and yet he knew every scar the woman's eye traced over. The small 'X' shaped ones where the broadheads had been removed. The off-colored tissue where an eldritch blast had struck home. The crisscrossing white lines on his left arm where a pair of daggers had found unprotected flesh.

The worst scar of all was one unseen to the naked eye. When all the others faded, that one would linger for an eternity. Though the Dragonborn wanted no pity, Adabra's eyes brimmed with sadness at the final scar's revelation.

"Does Yulia know?" She asked dabbing at the moisture with a bit of cloth. Alidorim shook his head. Yulia's nightmares were vivid enough. In all the time they'd been together he'd never shown his skin to the child or explained why he was alone so far north. Some of his anguish and anger must've shown. "She has enough pain in her life," she said in an understanding tone, "And you don't want to add yours to it as well."

"She deserves a better life," he replied dawning his shirt, "than the one I could ever give her."

Silently they both agreed it was time to call it a night. Alidorim propped himself next to the sleeping child as Adabra put out all but one lantern. She was about to leave when the healer paused. She looked down as the slumbering Tiefling instinctively rolled toward her guardian. "She seems so...content with you," the woman sighed looking both empathetic and sad.

Content? Was that how Yulia felt? Alidorim wasn't dense. He doubted the girl would smile the way she did if she weren't. They'd only known each other a few weeks, and during that time Yulia had changed so much. Gone was the filthy traumatized girl, and now slept a child whose sole concern would be tummy-ache in the morning. She laughed and smiled even when she was being a nuisance. She called him father. She was...happy.

Could he ever feel the same?


	15. Chapter 14: Contentment

**Chapter 14: Contentment**

Early the next morning Adabra and the cook stood outside the kitchen preparing to see the pair off.

"Here," Adabra said holding out a handful of ointments they'd created in their short time together. "This should hold you awhile." Alidorim nodded his thanks. Inside were the healing, cold, and sleeping vials they'd concocted. Though not the most powerful of medicines, they would do. Adabra's lessons, on the other hand, would be invaluable. He attempted to thank the healer by offering fair compensation but was quickly dismissed.

"And this is for my little helper," Tevon said handing Yulia a small bag.

The Tiefling sniffed the contents and her eyes lit up. "I have these?" The cook nodded and smiled. Yulia thanked him with the fervor only a child could possess.

"Don't spoil your lunch," Alidorim ordered, making the girl pout.

With a smirk, the cook said in a stage whisper, "If you run out, have your papa make some more." Alidorim blanched at the words.

Yulia gapped in amazement. "Father you make these?"

Sighing yet again, Olkith said, "I...can try."

The cook groaned. "Idiot," he mumbled so only the adults could hear, "You're supposed to promise." Alidorim glared and Adabra stifled yet another laugh. For her part, the healer insisted if they were ever around the village of Phandalin to look her up. She'd like to see how his skills as a herbalist had improved. The Dragonborn made no promises but he did thank her again for the lessons.

With that, they turned and headed north away from the ranch. After waving goodbye for the third time the Tiefling took hold of the warrior's hand. They'd done it enough times now Yulia needed no prompting. Her little hand enveloped his index finger as if that's where it belonged.

"I can do much helping now, father," she exclaimed, glowing with pride, "I even wash clothes next time!" Alidorim nodded but did not comment. His mind was on the path ahead. The road had the Neverwinter Woods to the west and Starmetal Hills to the east. They were still two days from the river and the barge that would take them straight through the forest to the City of its Namesake. His ultimate destination was almost within reach. And yet...

"What will I do when I get there?" he thought. Alidorim had banked on finding Yulia a home sooner, but the longer they traveled together the less sure he was that he'd ever find one. The child was content to be with him. He doubted that even if he found a willing family, she'd ever willingly part from him.

Unfortunately, her presence would make acquiring any work difficult. He had no guild or reputation in the area. His only real chance was getting a job by virtue of being a Dragonborn. But that still left Yulia. He couldn't drag a child with him to clear ruins or hunt monsters.

"Father? You like one?" Glancing down he saw that Yulia was holding one of the cooks treats up to him.

"Damn," he thought as he took the morsel and popped it into his mouth. It was indeed delicious, nearly as sweet as the girl's smile. A breeze tossed her curls and the morning sun made her eyes sparkle like river stones. It was difficult to reconcile the bright young girl with the frightened child on the edge of the Evermoors. Looking at her now Alidorim couldn't imagine what his life would be without Yulia. As he watched the unbridled joy roll off her tiny porcelain face, he felt his throat tighten. Alidorim sighed as he felt that aching pain in his chest again. "When did that happen?"

Maybe it was it the night of the storm. Or maybe it was in the back alleys of Triboar. Or over the course of the days he'd taught her to speak common. It may have even happened the moment he rescued her from the goblins. But at some point Alidorim Olkith, Dragonborn, disgraced warrior and adventurer... had truly become more than Yulia's guardian.

"C'mon father!" Yulia called out pulling on his arm to make him walk faster, "Still long way to Neverwinter!"


	16. Chapter 15: Chains

**Part 2: The Party**

**Chapter 15: Chains**

When had it all become familiar? When had the cold metal floor become comfortable to sleep on? When had the bruises stopped hurting? When had she become numb to the pain every-time she coughed? When had she stopped noticing the iron collar about her throat or the shackles on her arms?

There was a village, a fishing village near the ocean. She had parents, and friends...all gone...lost to blade and fire. Their faces...why couldn't she remember their faces? When did her old life become a memory?

Was it about the time she stopped counting the bars? Or was it when she could no longer smell her own filth? Maybe it was about the time the moans of the others faded to white noise. Maybe it was when she could no longer taste the gruel the Master foisted upon her.

Was it the day before? A week? Or had it already been a month? She could no longer tell tucked away amongst the other cages. It could've been either summer or winter and she couldn't feel it through the thick walls of the market. She would've wept for not knowing had she any tears left to spend.

That was the moment, Lesmythe realized dejectedly. The moment the tears dried she'd stopped caring she was a slave. And with them, every last vestige of hope.

"What makes you think I would want a slave?" The voice was deep, sounding like stone grinding on stone. Its depth silenced what few murmuring voices existed within the market.

"I dunno the fact that they can neither lie nor betray you." That was the Master's voice. Not nearly as deep as the first but very low.

"Why is that?" the first voice demanded.

"Because our slaves are controlled by a magical seal." The master explained. "Any act of disobedience against the owner will result in pain." Lesmythe couldn't help but rub at the symbol tattooed between her breasts. She no longer felt the itch of the brand. When had that happened? "Continuous disobedience...hehe" The Master was still speaking, "...well you get the idea."

So, the Master was here to peddle his wares to a potential customer. In some distant part of her mind, she wondered what they were in the market for. Her stomach churned at the thought of being someone else's plaything.

About that time Lesmythe felt her chest ache and constrict. Clutching at her torso she tried to suppress the cough but that only made it worse. Her body shook as each cough rattled within her chest.

There was silence beyond her bars, then heavy footsteps. Some distant part of her soul whimpered in fear. The canvas curtain was tossed aside. Dread filled her the moment her eyes adjusted to the lantern light. Before her loomed a thing out of a nightmare.

It was like no human or near-human she'd ever seen. It stood upright with two arms and legs but that was where the similarities ended. Where toes and fingers should've been were dark claws, perfect for rending flesh. In the place of skin were row upon row of scales that glowered in the dim light. Amber eyes stared down a long snout that housed rows of pointed teeth.

The dragon-like visage glared down at her, nostrils flaring as it caught her scent. Its eyes flashed making her flinch. It sneered in disgust. The dragonkin dropped the flap only when the Master directed him towards another cage. The canvas hadn't fallen completely back into place. Lesmythe was still able to observe the stranger. The Master was showing off a lycan. The werewolf growled and shook its cage, showing off its strength and savagery.

"How much for this one?" The dragonkin asked. That voice sent a chill down her spine and made her teeth grind. What kind of beast could carry such a presence? For his part, the dragonkin didn't sound interested, more curious. Either way, Lesmythe was relieved he was no longer focused on her. The Master gushed over the various qualities of the Lycan before finally stating the price. "How does fifteen gold sound?"

The dragonkin scoffed. "Showing me your most expensive slave knowing full well I can't afford it?"

The Master chuckled, "Indeed, just putting my best foot forward as it were." The dragonkin scoffed again, his gaze drifting off to examine other nearby slaves. Undeterred the Master continued, "To help me out, what exactly kinda slave you looking for?"

"One that's cheap and obedient," the Dragonkin snarled. The venom in his voice sent another shiver up her spine. She'd heard of beings like him. Cheap slaves meant they were disposable. Stories circulated, even amongst the slave pens, of necromancers utilizing them for experiments and of cultists using them as sacrifices. Was that what the dragonkin had in mind?

The pair turned and started to walk back towards the line of cages where Lesmythe lay. She shrank backward stifling her cough as best she could. Averting her eyes and making herself as small as possible so as to not draw the attention of that beast again.

"Well these slaves aren't suited for combat or hard labor," the Master explained sounding a bit disappointed.

"Doesn't matter," the Dragonkin growled eyeballing each of the slaves in turn, "If I need them to fight, I'll train them." Fighting? Did that mean the dragonkin wanted a slave for battle as conscript? The idea of fighting and dying for the pleasure of such a creature made her feel sick to her stomach.

The Master laughed again, "That's an amusing response, seeing as you don't believe in people."

"Slaves aren't people," he replied making Lesmythe shudder, "Training them would be no different than upgrading my gear."

The Master laughed again. They paused before the cages. "These are the cheapest slaves I can offer you. Other than the dead ones of course." He added the last bit in a low voice that the Dragonkin seemed to ignore. The Master gestured saying "On the left I have-."

"Raise your head." Lesmythe froze when she realized the command had been directed at her. Another bout of coughing shook her torso. Slowly she turned to gaze up into the burning gaze of the Dragonkin.

The master scoffed. "That mangy half-elf is sick as a dog, and couple spokes short of a cartwheel, hehe. I'm having a helluva time with her myself." Lesmythe recoiled as the master smacked the bars of her cage with the end of his cane. The Master was a cruel man but something about the Dragonkin made her want to scream in terror. "Her last owner loved his torture hehe." The very mention of the Viscount made her back itch and her stomach cramp uncontrollably.

Shrugging the Master attempted to redirect the Dragonkin away from her. "She's not long for this world I'm afraid." He started to indicate the werecat in the next cage, "Might I suggest-."

"I've decided," Lesmythe trembled uncontrollably beneath those amber eyes. If there was any aspect of her hope still intact it was immediately shattered as his finger pointed directly at her. "She'll do."


	17. Chapter 16 Brand

**Chapter 16: Brand**

"Once bonded, she'll obey all your commands." The Master chuckled darkly, "Even the thought of disobeying will activate the seal." With an expression of leeriness, the dragonkin allowed the Master to prick the tip of his thumb with the small knife. The blood was added to an alchemical formula.

Too weak to offer even a token resistance, the Master easily shoved Lesmythe's arms aside. Dipping a brush into the liquid he traced the outer edge of the slave crest. She knew all too well the pain of disobedience. The moment the circle was complete Lesmythe gasped. Smoke curled up to engulf her face as her flesh sizzled with magical energy.

"What's happening?" the dragonkin demanded.

"Not to worry," the Master said cheerfully, "The pain will dissipate soon."

Crying out, she fell to the floor clutching at her chest. Through the haze of agony, she saw the Dragonkin look on dispassionately. Only the burning of her skin kept her from expressing her misery.

Slowly the pain allayed. It would eventually fade, but the seal always served as a reminder that the agony was never far away. Still gasping for breath Lesmythe managed to sit up.

"She's all yours, my friend," declared her former Master.

Her new Master hefted a leather purse. "Thirty silvers, yes?" The coins hit the counter with a dull clatter of metal. So that's all her life was worth? Thirty pieces of silver? It wasn't enough she was a slave. Lesmythe was a worthless slave by the master's estimate. Somehow that hurt worse than the brand.

"There's two extra here, sir."

The dragonkin didn't bother to look at him. He continued to stare down at his acquisition. Probably wondering if she was even worth half the price. "That's your commission," he growled, "You were going to wring it out of me anyway, right?"

The slaver laughed heartily. "You have a real head for this business."

Lesmythe was still recovering from the application when she felt her new master lean over her. "Now then, I guess I'm supposed to know your name." She tried to speak but the seal had brought about a fresh wave of coughing that threatened to make her vomit. "Well?" he said a bit more sharply, "Tell me your name." The half-elf flinched in anticipation of the seal's activation. "I said what's your name."

She sat up unable to look the beast in the eye. "I'm called... Lesmythe."

"Lesmythe huh?" He said her name slowly, doing his best to pronounce it properly. Sighing in exasperation he reached down and grasped her by the forearm. She whimpered as the dragonkin hauled her up and dragged her bodily towards the door. "Let's go." Behind them, the slaver advised that dragonkin to come back anytime and that they were always open. Lesmythe couldn't help but speculate if dying in her cage was preferable to dying at the hands of the dragonkin.

Lesmythe's new master didn't slow until they were several blocks away from the slave market. The night lay heavy and the moon bright. Its radiance stung her eyes. When she attempted to rub them, the dragonkin let go of her arm. Once her vision cleared, she got her first true glimpse of her owner. He towered over her, wearing black leather armor over blood-red scales. A main of tendrils fell to his shoulder blades making him look even more beastly. Claws and teeth showed in white contrast to his burning amber eyes. Those eyes glared down at her with cold distrust.

"Follow," he ordered. He didn't even wait to see if she obeyed. Lesmythe hurried after him making sure to stay just off his left shoulder. Other than the occasional sidelong glance the dragonkin barely acknowledge her presence. For her part, Lesmythe kept her eyes down. She would be as quiet and unassuming as he desired. Maybe if she was lucky, he'd forget she existed. The seal pulsed, reminding her that some dreams would always stay elusive.

She didn't know how far they walked, only that they'd entered a part of Neverwinter she'd never seen before. It wasn't the slums, nor was it the Blue Lake district. This area was full of commoners, laborers, and craftsmen. "This must be the Tower district," she thought.

As they walked, she began to notice they garnered a fair amount of attention. At first, she thought the disparaging looks were aimed at her, then she realized they were focused solely on the dragonkin. Expressions ranging from fearful to distrustful. Did her master have a reputation?

Caught in her daydreaming the dragonkin pulled her into a shop. It was so abrupt she wasn't able to catch the name. Hastily she apologized for getting distracted, but her master ignored it. Instead, he approached the front counter of the store. A tall bald human wearing a smock stood in the midst of opening his store.

"Oh, it's you," the man said, seemly glad and disappointed by the dragonkin's presence. It appeared the two knew each other but weren't exactly on friendly terms. Then he noticed Lesmythe. He arched an eyebrow at the manacles still adorning her wrists and throat. "What's with the girl?"

The dragonkin responded by placing a stack of coins on the table. "I need a blade she can use. Keep it under twenty silvers." Lesmythe winced at the mention of a weapon. Her earlier suspicion was right. The dragonkin wanted her to fight for him. She tried not to think about using a knife on him lest she activates the seal.

The man grunted disapprovingly. "Looks like this city corrupted you." He sighed and started rummaging behind his counter. "A blade for twenty silvers?"

"Yes," he looked Lesmythe up and down. His nose wrinkled at the ratty oversized tunic she wore as an outfit. "Do you have any spare clothes or capes?"

Dawn was just breaking by the time they left. Lesmythe was wearing a relatively clean work dress over leggings and a properly sized shirt that covered her slave crest. The rags were left in a garbage bin where not even the rats approached.

A simple dagger hung on her hip. When she hesitated to draw it in the store, the dragonkin invoked the seal nearly making her double over in pain. Drawing it her master made the half-elf attack a wooden pillar to gauge her strength. After only a few slashes and stabs he sighed in frustration and disappointment.

Before they left the owner commented that the dragonkin was going to have a hard life, and harder death. Her master scoffed. "And the sky is blue."

Lesmythe didn't know where they were going. The only thing the Dragonkin had said since leaving the shop was "Good thing I don't want you for fighting." His words didn't reassure her. If her new master didn't need her for battle, then what use could he have for her. The stories of necromancers and cultists entered her mind. But if he was going to simply kill her then why spend the coin on clothing and arming her.

They were approaching a rather cheap Inn called the Cooked Goose when a sickening realization occurred to her. Looking at her owner, Lesmythe felt the blood drain from her skin as she sized him up. Her hands were trembling by the time they entered the establishment. She barely noticed the tavern or ascending the stairway. If the other patrons spotted her terrified expression none of them cared to act. The Cooked Goose wasn't the type of place where virtues left intact. If the Gods existed, then they surely despised her.

The dragonkin held the door open for her to enter. As she walked in eyes wet with the first tears in ages remained glued to the floor. The room was furnished with only a desk and a bed. Lesmythe could barely look at the mattress, or the table or any surface of the room. Any part could be where she would be used...just like before.

Trembling hands began undoing her cloak when the Dragonkin spoke. "Clean yourself up. You stink of that slaver's tent." His voice was clear and sharp, and it made her cringe. She turned in time to see him step through a partitioning door into an adjacent room. So, he would wait there while she made herself...presentable.

On the desk was a water basin and a few rags; a small accommodation on the Inns part.

Teardrop dripped into the water as she removed her clothes. It was all Lesmythe could do to stifle the sobs as she slid the damp rag over her pale skin. She cringed every-time the cloth rubbed the lash marks crisscrossing her shoulders and thighs. She doubted the master was the type to care about scars.

It was the first proper wash she'd had in some time, and yet by the end of it, the half-elf felt dirtier than ever. It was a wonder that after so many abuses she could still feel shame over what was about to happen. If there were Gods listening, she prayed her end would come swiftly. She would accept the pain so long as there would be an end.

She had just dawned her clothing when there was a knock on the door. "You finished yet?" he asked, voice filled with annoyance.

"Y-yes, m-master," she stuttered. Standing next to the bed Lesmythe did her best to hide her distress. As the door began to open, she closed her eyes and bowed. "I-I'm sorry it t-took so long, master-."

"Stand straight, girl," he barked. Lesmythe flinched but obeyed. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth fell open in a gasp. There in the doorway stood the dragonkin, bedecked in his armor and weapons. He radiated lethality and cunning. Fear coursed through her the moment he'd stepped into the room. Yet his presence wasn't what dominated her attention. The half-elf could only gape as she took in deep black eyes set in pale skin, bedecked by a pair of tiny horns beneath a mop of red curls.

"Lesmythe, this is Yulia," the Dragonkin stated, placing a clawed hand on the shoulder of a girl no more than five years old. "You're going to help me take care of her."


	18. Chapter 17 Guild

**Chapter 17: Guild**

Buildings towered over him along either side of the cobblestone street. There was no escaping the dull roar of the populous. The air was choked by more scents than Alidorim could identify. Straddling the river Neverwinter dwarfed every town and village he'd even been too. Its scale rivaled the port cities of Tymanther. A myriad of different species, mostly human, choked the lanes forcing the Dragonborn to carry Yulia. The city was far more then what Alidorim had anticipated. While one hand cradled the girl the other clutched at the hilt of his sword.

Alidorim made his way through the laneways pausing only to get directions from reluctant passersby's. Even in a place as diverse as Neverwinter, he was still an uncommon sight. Having plenty of time to think about it, Alidorim figured the best course of action would be to register as soon as possible. The sooner he did so the quicker he would garner work. It wasn't long before they found themselves outside the Guild Hall.

A few copper pieces covered the fee and after filling out some paperwork Alidorim Olkith was officially registered...as a Level One adventurer. A damn beginner. He did his best not to vent his frustration to the secretary. She was only doing her job, plus...Yulia was watching. All new registrants had to start as a novice, no matter how experienced they were. Unfortunately, that would limit his job choices.

"Clearing sewers," he grumbled making his way to the Guild's bar. Though his pride rebelled at the idea he knew he would have to start somewhere. He ordered food for both Yulia and himself. After selling some of his homebrewed medicines they could afford to binge a little. Yulia was beside herself with awe. Her head snapped left and right to take in everything she could. Triboar was nothing compared to Neverwinter in her eyes.

"We...home father?" she asked as the bartender set their plates down. The man sniffed at the Tiefling. He quickly departed at a growl from the Dragonborn. The girl paid no heed. She was engrossed in her food and new environment. While he wasn't set on establishing a residence in the city, Neverwinter would make a fine base of operations for the time being. At least until he gained rank in the guild.

"...need you to protect me while I harvest herbs near Thundertree."

Alidorim perked up at the words. Further down the bar sat a young man with long bangs, smartly dressed. He was speaking to four adventures: an elf, a human, a dwarf, and a halfling.

"...the catch, kid?" the elf asked. Wearing half-plate armor, and armed with a long-sword, Alidorim pegged him as a fighter.

"Thundertree has become inhabited by monsters since it was abandoned," the young man, their patron explained, "Twig Blights and Spiders." He visibly shuddered. "I hate spiders."

Getting a good look at the party, Alidorim noticed certain details. The human wore lightweight armor and carried a short bow, long knife, and a buckler. "A ranger." The fighter and ranger were as old as the young man if a bit more seasoned. The dwarf had almost a decade on the pair, with a beard and gut to match. His fur-trimmed robes and animal totems signified him as some sort of druid. The halfling, Alidorim was surprised to see, wielded a magician's staff. Their gear was modest at best but well used. Their silver tags still gleamed in the low light. "Level Five's." Alidorim glanced down at his copper tag in disgust.

After telling Yulia to finish eating he approached the group. "I hear you need an escort." The young man visibly flinched at the Dragonborn's presence but quickly recovered. Though he smiled pleasantly the party didn't look too enthused by his arrival.

"I am, sir but-."

"He was talking to us, scaly," the fighter growled rising to glare at the new arrival. Even at full height the elf barely came up to Olkith's chest. From his pointy ears to his conceded expression, he reminded Alidorim so much of... "that bitch." The Dragonborn maintains his composure despite old hatreds stirring within.

Ignoring the boisterous elf, Alidorim turned back to the young man. "Whatever you're paying these men collectively. I'll do by myself for half." Both the druid and mage sputtered indignantly while the fighter swore under his breath. For his part, the patron looked as if he was considering the offer, especially once he got a good look at Alidorim's equipment.

"That your kid?" The ranger asked. Alidorim stiffened, turning he saw Yulia was finished eating. She was sitting quietly while being mesmerized by the other adventurers. She gave her father a wave. Alidorim suppressed a growl and returned the wave with a nod. "You have a sitter or are you planning on taking her along," said the very shrewd human. "Wilds are no place for children, Dragonborn." He couldn't beat Alidorim's offer so he decided to play dirty. He looked neither smug nor snide. The man was simply making sure his crew got the job.

The Patron looked from Yulia back to the Dragonborn. "Do you intend on taking the child?" When Alidorim didn't answer right away the young man sighed in disappointment "I see, then I'm afraid I cannot hire you." Fists clenched Olkith attempted to negotiate but the patron forestalled him. "Your Guild Level aside," he said flatly and without remorse, "I can't trust you to protect me if you're too busy looking after the girl."

With that, the Patron and his newly hired escort departed. Alidorim was left in a state of frustration and anger. Growling he slammed a fist on the counter.

"Father?" Yulia stood at his elbow looking up at him with concern, "You okay?" While others stared at him with weariness, the Tiefling only showed him affection and kindness.

"I don't deserve you," he thought with a sigh. Nodding his head, he motioned for the door. "We'll need to find a place to stay." Still looking worried, Yulia nodded and followed him out of the Guild Hall. She didn't say anything, but Alidorim could sense she was still concerned with his wellbeing. Taking her hand, they made their way back out into the city.

With limited funds and a lack of stable income, there were very few places they could afford to stay. None of them respectable. If it wasn't for the entry toll Alidorim would've considered sleeping outside the city. Aside from the financial strain, he couldn't force Yulia to sleep outdoors. Her fever resurfaced whenever the nights turned especially chilly. Putting a roof over her head and a proper bed beneath her was as much a priority as finding work.

They paused in their search for an Inn to enter a shop that bought and sold a variety of items. The bald man behind the counter eagerly bought some of his ointments. Though friendly enough it was obvious he didn't care for non-humans. At least he was honest.

The owner of the Cooked Goose Inn & Tavern wasn't too enthusiastic either to find a Dragonborn and Tiefling at his counter. His attitude improved after Alidorim showed him his Guild tag and a gold coin. That earned them a bedroom with an adjoining office. Once they'd stowed their belongings and Yulia settled down they ate supper. Another teaspoon of her sleeping draft and the child was soon snoring away.

Alidorim didn't want to leave her alone but after so many miles and the rough day he needed a drink. Down in the Tavern he mulled over his situation over a tall pint. Selling homemade ointments wouldn't sustain them for long. He couldn't gain rank without taking high paying jobs. He couldn't take high paying jobs if it meant leaving Yulia alone. But he couldn't take care of Yulia without coin.

"I'm chasing my tail!" he thought savagely, slamming the empty mug down. "Another," he barked.

"Drinking like that, you either want to kiss a girl or kill someone," said a portly man further down the bar. "So, which is it?" he asked paying for the next round. He was dressed in gaudy merchant attire, and though he nursed a mug, the man looked annoyingly sober.

Despite being grateful for the free refill, Alidorim wasn't in the mood to chat with a stranger. "Neither," the Dragonborn growled. Though to be honest he had considered bodily harm to a certain elf he had no desire to recollect.

"Interesting," he went on disregarding Olkith's desire to be left alone, "I'd love to know what could get such a magnificent warrior such as yourself wound up so tight."

Maybe it was the buzz from the alcohol or the fact he was too frustrated to care Alidorim decided to give the plump man a rundown of his situation. The man listened, asking no questions but took in every detail. By the end though the merchant had an understanding if a disturbing smile.

"So, you could use some help," the merchant declared, "What luck. I have exactly what you need."

Alidorim sniffed and started to turn away, "Whatever your offering, I'm not interested."

"Truly?" the man chuckled shaking his head. "Heh, heh...What I'm offering you is a service I believe you'll find...convenient."

Scoffing he asked, "And that would be...?"

"If my offer interests you then I ask that you follow me to my office." He slid off his stool and began waddling toward the door. At the threshold, he paused and looked back at the warrior. "What do you think?" the man asked.

Sighing Olkith stood. "I'll hear you out." The man's smile grew. Before leaving Alidorim made sure his room was secure and Yulia was still asleep. An extra gold coin to the owner paired with a threatening look would ensure no one would enter while he was gone. He didn't like leaving Yulia alone, but the Dragonborn was desperate to find an answer to his predicament.

Once outside the merchant led Alidorim down a back alley towards the slums. The air was filled with aggressive shouts and the sounds of fragile things breaking. As they were eyed by scruffy, dangerous-looking men he gripped the handles of his weapons. More than anything, it smelled terrible.

The moon was rising, but there was no light where they were. Turning a corner and at the end of another alley stood a large warehouse draped in massive sheets of canvas. The merchant approached the building. His senses on edge Alidorim followed.

There was a metallic clank, and then a very heavy-looking door swung open. The interior was dim, and the smell of rot and animals hung faintly in the air. There were several cages in the room, and human-like shapes moved within them. Alidorim tensed, nostrils flaring.

"What exactly are you offering?" he asked in a low growl.

The man chuckled. "Heh, heh...Isn't obvious?" He gestured with his walking stick towards the cages where hopeless eyes stared back at them. "They're slaves, good sir."

"Your serious?" Alidorim's eyes narrowed, doing his best not to be drawn in by the groans around him.

"Always," The man gestured grandly about him in a pontificating fashion. "I run a slave market." The notion that such a forward-thinking place as Neverwinter would have such an operation within its walls, shocked Alidorim to his core. It seemed that at the heart of every jewel there was always a rotten core. Slavery or servitude was nothing new to him, he just despised being led on rather than be told upfront.

"Merchants; always working the sales pitch," his mind railed. And he'd fallen for it like a starry-eyed waif.

Irritated at himself for even entertaining the merchant Alidorim turned to leave. "What makes you think I would want a slave?"

"I dunno the fact that they can neither lie nor betray you," he answered with a wide toothy grin. The merchant's words halted him in his tracks.

The Dragonborn's fists clenched as he suppressed a growl. The merchant had actively listened to Olkith's tale and knew exactly what to say. "Why is that?" Alidorim demanded.

"Because our slaves are controlled by a magical seal." The master explained. "Any act of disobedience against the owner will result in pain." The Slave Trader was looking exceptionally pleased with himself. Olkith had a strong urge to punch his face in. "Continuous disobedience...heh heh." He slowly mimics crushing his own heart, "...well you get the idea."

Though disturbing, Alidorim would be lying if the idea didn't intrigue him.

If the slave disobeyed him, they'd die. In some ways, that was exactly what he needed: someone who wouldn't use him or get funny ideas about the girl.

Alidorim couldn't work and take care of Yulia at the same time. He needed someone to help him. But people lie and betray, so he couldn't afford to pay them. But he didn't have to pay a slave and they wouldn't betray him; betrayal meant death.

"So, what do you say?"

Somewhere deep in his mind, a voice decried the very notion of owning a slave. It was dishonorable and unethical, unworthy of a proud warrior. They were the criticisms of naivety; his younger self that hadn't known life's true hardships. It had never felt starvation and the cruelty of those he deemed friends. It knew nothing of desperation and the willingness to do a little evil for a greater good.

"Show me what you have..."


	19. Chapter 18 Deal

**Chapter 18: Deal**

"This is Yulia," Alidorim stated, gently placing a hand on her shoulder in a protective gesture. "You're going to help me take care of her."

The slave-Lesmythe-was the picture of shock; mouth agape while blue eyes blinked rapidly. Whatever the half-elf had been expecting, tending to a five-year-old Tiefling certainly wasn't it.

Rubbing her eyes and yawning, Yulia asked, "Who this, father?" Having just been roused from a deep sleep the girl was a bit slow on the uptake.

"Father!?" Lesmythe blurted out. When Alidorim looked up at her the woman visibly flinched and stared back down. "A-apologies m-master." After suppressing a cough, Lesmythe curtseyed saying, "H-hello young miss."

"Young miss?" Yulia repeated looking annoyed, "I not 'young miss.' I Yulia!" Fear flashed across Lesmythe's face. Unsure how to respond, her mouth opened and closed several times. She reminded Olkith of a doe he'd startled on the road; shock paralyzing its flight or fight response.

"Her name is Yulia," Alidorim growled squeezing the girl's shoulder slightly. Lesmythe gulped and nodded again. Other than apologizing and agreeing to whatever her master said, the woman seemed to have no way of communicating. The product of many years serving demanding owners, no doubt. Alidorim didn't care so long as she did what she was told. As far as he could tell the slave crest would only activate if she disobeyed his orders meaning...

"Your fate is tied to hers," he said, "You'll tend to her whenever I am away." Even though it wasn't much, Alidorim paid for her. He expected a return on that investment.

"Y-yes, master," she mumbled, not meeting his gaze. Lesmythe glanced up only when Yulia approached. The girl looked her up and down with obvious curiosity. Alidorim wondered if she'd ever been that close to a half-elf before. Unsure what to do Lesmythe remained still to be appraised by the young girl.

A few moments later Yulia turned back toward Alidorim, pointed and said, "What those?" Though void of chains, the manacles still clung to the half-elf's neck and wrists. Alidorim had forgotten they were there. Their presence seems superfluous compared to the binding magic of the slave crest.

Before he could explain, Yulia turned back to the slave. "They...hurt?" Her tiny voice was laced with genuine concern. The woman didn't have to respond. Even from across the room Alidorim could see the deep red scabs and split dry skin.

As the Dragonborn walked up to her Lesmythe took an involuntary step back. He wordlessly took her left hand and, with a bit of work pried the manacle open enough to slip it off. He did the same for the right. The one around her neck took more effort, nearly snapping in the process. The entire time the half-elf never met his eye and flinched every time his scales brushed against flesh. His jaw clenched; even a slave found him disturbing.

After presenting her an ointment, he tossed the useless manacles aside. At that moment a stomach rumbled. It was such a small pitiful sound that the Dragonborn looked at Yulia, but the little girl shook her head. They both stared at Lesmythe. The slave clutched the vial of ointment, her face a deep shade of red.

"You hungry?" he asked. Swallowing she shook her head. "Don't lie to me," he growled, "You can't get stronger on an empty stomach." With that, he turned and headed out of the room. Yulia began to follow but then paused. Turning she grabbed Lesmythe by the hand and pulled her along. The half-elf's surprise was almost as palpable as Alidorim's. Other than him Yulia had barely let anyone touch her, even the children at the river crossing.

Shrugging off the thought he continued downstairs. As the trio entered the tavern, he ignored the disapproving looks from the employees and patrons alike. After seating themselves as far away from the crowd as possible, Alidorim gestured for the waiter. When the human appeared to think he had better things to do the Dragonborn called out, "Can we get something to eat?" The waiter flinched and figured he couldn't pretend they didn't exist any longer. "The cheapest meal for me and two specials for them," Alidorim said dropping twelve coppers into the man's hand.

Lesmythe bit her lip nervously. "Why, master?"

"Why what?" he responded sharply making her wince, "You don't want that?"

She nodded but then shook her head, clearly anxious. "No, master it's just that..." she suppressed a cough before continuing, "Why get that for me?" She sounded like she didn't deserve it.

Alidorim answered by shrugging. He doubted the slavers had fed her more than gruel for who knew how long. Her cheeks were gaunt and eyes sunken. If he lifted her shirt, he was sure he'd see ribs. No wonder she was sickly, the half-elf was malnourished. She reminded him of Yulia in that regard. Speaking of...

Reaching into his pouch he pulled out his one remaining vial of medicine. Though cursing himself for having sold so many of their precious supply, the slave would be no good if she died from a curable illness. "Drink this," he ordered.

Hesitantly, Lesmythe took the vial, removed the stopper and drank. Almost instantly she started coughing and gagging. At least she didn't vomit. "It's...so bitter," she whimpered covering her mouth. "Good medicine is supposed to be bitter," he wanted to snap but kept his peace. Yulia looked at her sympathetically.

The girl's eyes sparkled when the food finally arrived. While Alidorim received three slabs of meat and a piece of bread, Yulia and Lesmythe got a bowl of sweet-smelling oatmeal, some small fruits and thick pieces of buttered toast.

While Yulia delved right in the half-elf hesitated. "You saving it for later?" he asked gnawing on his food. Lesmythe shook her head and after another brief pause took her first bite. An involuntary moan of pleasure escaped her with the mouthful. Soon she was wolfing down her meal with the same determination as Yulia. Her expression would've made him laugh if it also didn't remind him of certain 'other elves.'

Not wanting to waste his time thinking about former comrades, Alidorim instead focused on more pressing issues. That of an income. As a Level One Adventurer, his quest options were limited. Begrudgingly he accepted that he was going to have to start at the bottom...literally.

"To the sewers, I go," he thought sarcastically.

When the Dragonkin stated his intentions to take a job, Lesmythe was nervous, to say the least. Not that she desired to stay in his presence any longer than she had to. The half-elf wasn't sure about being left alone with Yulia. For her part, the Tiefling didn't relish the idea of her 'father' leaving her sight, even for a moment.

The Dragonkin assured her that he would only leave for his mission after she fell asleep and would return before she awoke. His words seemed to pacify the child's anxiety but only by inches.

That afternoon, as they waited for sunset, Lesmythe was fascinated by the odd rapport between the Dragonkin and the little girl. While the child referred to him as her 'father' it wasn't the paternal relationship she'd have expected. Her master was distant and never said three words if one would suffice. In his role as guardian, he was ever diligent, constantly aware of his surroundings and the proximity of his weapons.

Lesmythe had expected Yulia to act as children do when confined to a small room; plead to be let out and whine when they weren't allowed to. That had been the case for other children she'd tended. Instead, she found Yulia sitting across from her 'father' quizzing one another on languages. It seemed as much as the girl was learning to speak common, she was also teaching the dragonkin the Infernal dialect.

It was a bewildering dichotomy, to say the least.

When the grammar lesson concluded, the Dragonkin took Yulia through the process of making medicines from wild herbs. The half-elf noticed that their supply of medicines was nearly depleted but made no comment. She recalled how the master had traded many vials to pay for her clothing and weapon. This was a couple living hand to mouth and yet... "And yet he bought me and clothed me?" she thought curiously. Granted it was a paltry sum, but it looked as if the warrior could ill afford to be frivolous.

The Dragonkin had gone so far as to spend what little coin he had on a quality meal for herself and the child. All because she looked hungry. Who was this being?

As promised the master didn't leave the room until Yulia was fast asleep. Before leaving, he explained to Lesmythe that Yulia suffered from nightmares and required a sleeping draft to rest properly. He was about to depart when Lesmythe could no longer stave off her curiosity. "M-master?" He paused and looked back over his shoulder, "I-I don't wish t-to be f-forward umm..."

"Speak," he growled looking impatient.

Unwilling to look him in the eye, Lesmythe asked, "W-well...m-may I know...my master's n-name?" She fumbled several times but managed to get the question out.

Her master stared at her for a minute. Lesmythe shifted beneath his amber eyes but didn't move. Since being purchased she had yet to learn his name and Lesmythe couldn't keep referring to him as Dragonkin. Nor was she about to call him 'Father' as Yulia did.

"Alidorim," he grumbled turning back towards the door, "Alidorim Olkith. You may address me by either."

Lesmythe was surprised by the deference to use his given name. Still nervous she started to thank him when Alidorim cut her off. "You are not to leave Yulia's side while I'm gone." His voice was deeper, and the threatening tone made her shiver. "Should you abandon her," he turned to gaze down at her, his eyes filled with a malignant glare, "The pain of that brand will be the least of your concerns."

With that final warning ringing in her ears, Alidorim exited the room. Lesmythe was left staring at the wooden door in stunned silence. One moment she'd been garnering respect from her master, and the next...

Lesmythe shivered uncontrollably as she made her way to Yulia's side. "Who is that being?"


	20. Chapter 19 Laugh

**Chapter 19: Laugh**

A swarm of mutated beetles and a pack of disfigured wererats later and Alidorim was trudging back to the Inn. He reeked so highly of ammonia and waste that the guild secretary had pinched her nose the entire time he'd given his report. It was a close call but the Dragonborn was positive he found a place he hated more than swamps.

Every metropolitan area had to have sewers to channel rain and sewage out of the city. In cities where a certain percentage were magic users, residual spells and potions seeped in causing mutations in the local ecology. Gone unchecked these beasts would swarm the surface and attack civilians and damage infrastructure.

As clearing the sewers was an ongoing task, Alidorim and other adventurers were presented payment based on time spent below and how many monsters slain. If he hadn't promised Yulia he'd be back before sunrise he'd have ground away until the following night.

"At least it pays reasonably," he thought. The one upside of belonging to a guild he wouldn't be cheated out of a reward. He made a point of dousing himself with several buckets of water, but it did little to elevate the stench. A fact that was made apparent by the Inn's owner.

"I'll have some freshwater and soap sent up," he said in as disapproving tone as he could manage through a covered mouth. Too tired to feel annoyed Alidorim nodded and proceeded to his room. As much as he would prefer to sleep, rest would allude him so long as the stench of Neverwinter's sewers lingered.

Alidorim entered the room and had already begun undoing his armor when he became aware of another presence. "M-m-master...?" Lesmythe was awake and sitting next to the bed.

Despite his surprise at just now noticing her Alidorim managed to keep his composure.

Clearing his throat, the Dragonborn finished removing his armor before checking on Yulia. The Tiefling was still sleeping in the office, wrapped up in his cloak and wool blanket. Content no harm had come to her he returned to the bedroom to find the half-elf waiting. Her shock at his arrival had been replaced by the fear that seemed to bubble beneath the surface.

"You're up early," he grumbled. Modesty having gone the way of the giants, Alidorim went ahead and shrugged off his tunic.

"I-I don't sleep well, m-master," Lesmythe blubbered what little poise she had evaporated with each word. "Th-the slave tent...It was difficult to tell time..." her voice trailed off as she took in his torso. Just like with Adabra he could feel her eyes trace every one of his scars. The scrutiny would've made him feel self-conscious, but after the night he'd had he truly didn't care.

Despite his weariness, Alidorim grasped her explanation. Having been in captivity for so long her body had lost all sense of time. It didn't know when to sleep, or when to be awake. He would've offered some of Yulia's sleeping draft, but the supply was already dwindling.

There was a knock on the door and Lesmythe answered it. The Innkeeper presented her with the bucket of well water and bar of lye soap. Lesmythe mumbled her thanks, keeping her gaze down. The man eyed the woman up and down, sneering a bit before leaving. It didn't take a genius to know what ill thoughts ran through the human's mind. Alidorim had to wonder if the slave worried about the same. According to the slaver, her last owner had subjected her to all manner of abuse.

Feeling his stomach clench uncomfortably he thought, "Does she expect the same treatment from me?" The way she avoided his gaze and recoiled at his touch was answer enough.

At a gesture, she set the basin and rag next to him. He began rubbing down his arms making sure to apply liberal amounts of soap. He caught Lesmythe staring again and he cleared his throat. Mumbling an apology, she averted her eyes. "Lesmythe." Turning she kept her gaze down. Alidorim noticed elf ears turned pink when they were flustered. Sighing he said, "Get some sleep."

Her face shot up and their eyes met; amber irises slicing into blue. "Y-you don't..." she stammered. Gripping the edges of her tunic. "You won't be n-n-needing...me?" Her eyes shown with relief. There was no ignoring the glimmer of hope in a sea of pessimism.

Slowly he nodded before dismissing her. Bowing she entered the office and lay on the double-layered bedrolls. Wrapping the blanket about her she turned away from the Dragonborn. He couldn't tell if Lesmythe had fallen asleep, but she did remain still.

That would explain the low cost. Aside from being sickly the half-elf was damaged goods. Jumpier than a jackrabbit, it was a miracle the woman could perform basic tasks. Alidorim needed to know she could take care of Yulia. Either fear of him or the slave crest would hinder any attempt to teach her and Lesmythe had to learn or she wouldn't be of any use to him.

Sighing he resumed his wash. The lye soap did its job. Instead of smelling like an outhouse, he settled for the scent of damp ash mixed with lard. He'd have to properly tend his gear later. Even as he set aside the basin and rag his eyes were already starting to droop. Slumber claimed him before his head had even touched the mattress.

A dreamless night later and Alidorim found himself waking to the noonday sun. Alarmed he sat up to find himself alone. Leaping to his feet he ran to the office door and flung it open. He managed to suppress the sigh of relief when he found Yulia and Lesmythe sitting across from one another. They looked to be in mid-conversation. Between them sat his armor. Despite having just woken he was able to deduce that the girls were in the middle of cleaning his equipment. If the smell bothered them, they gave no indication.

Lesmythe hastily stood and bowed, but Yulia remained seated. She was looking at Alidorim with confusion and a little surprise. Had she not expected him to be awake so soon?

As any question about their activities would've been redundant Alidorim instead settled for annoyance. "You should've woken me," he growled.

Lesmythe started to sputter an apology when Yulia glared at him. "You awake all night," she declared, "You needed sleep." A sly smile crept across her face. "Father snore."

Heat burst across his expression. The half-elf squeaked in surprise at the girl's words. "I do not snore Yulia," he stated gripping the doorframe tightly. The Tiefling would not be deterred.

"You do snore!" she retorted. She flung her head back before making loud snorting growls that took him by surprise. The Dragonborn could only assume she was attempting to mimic his sleeping habits. Blush deepening, he growled in annoyance, but Yulia just smiled and continued on her overly dramatized mimicry.

Alidorim was about to chastise her when he noticed something was off with Lesmythe. The woman had both hands clapped over her mouth and her eyes screwed tight. Face red, her shoulders quivered uncontrollably. Lesmythe...was laughing...

Noticing the effect her actions were having, Yulia leaped to her feet. Lifting her hands as if she were carrying two swords, her expression twisted into one of utter seriousness. "Yulia, I not snore!" she said in as deep a voice as she could muster, "I sleep like quiet rabbit!" She turned on the half-elf and released an almighty growl. That was too much for Lesmythe to handle and she burst out into fits of wheezing laughter. Pretty soon Yulia was giggling right alongside the half-elf.

His embarrassment complete, Alidorim turned and stomped to the door. When Yulia asked where he was going the Dragonborn snapped, "to eat."

"Master...we-we...brought you a tray earlier," Lesmythe gasped still trying to compose herself.

Still, flustered Alidorim hadn't noticed that they had indeed brought him some food. "Well...I'll just," he growled in frustration, "Eat it downstairs!" Even through the closed door, he could still hear the girl's laughter, and he couldn't decide whether he despised it...or...Nope! He definitely despised it!

The sun was still high by the time Alidorim returned to the room. Lesmythe and Yulia had managed to reign in there humor long enough to finish cleaning the master's armor. The half-elf was worried she might've upset the Dragonkin, but how else could she react to Yulia's antics. At first, she was afraid Alidorim would visit his wrath upon them. She'd seen other parents do so on their disobedient children. Instead, he'd blushed...he had actually blushed...and left the room.

When he did return, he neither spoke nor looked at them. Instead, he went about packing their bags. Given his earlier irritation, Lesmythe was hesitant to inquire into his thoughts. Fortunately, Yulia had no such restraint. "We leaving father?" she asked. Alidorim grunted by way of acknowledgment. "We leave Neverwinter?"

"To gather herbs," he said in a low voice. When he noticed Yulia's worried expression, the angles of his face softened. Sighing he knelt to her level. "We're out of medicine. I need to make more for you and Lesmythe." Yulia seemed pleased with his answer and moved to help. The half-elf stared at him in stunned silence. Had he just included her in his estimate? Did he actually...care?

"Lesmythe!" his voice cut through her thoughts making the woman jump. Alidorim was glaring at her. Pointing towards the blankets and bedrolls, he said, "Pack." Stumbling out an apology she hastily obeyed.

"What was I thinking?" she sighed inwardly, "All he wants is a healthy slave." She was his property and he intended to get his money's worth. The very thought made her cringe and shiver.

At the front counter, they spoke to the Innkeeper about closing out their room. Around the tavern, she noticed some additional Patrons were present. Rough looking types wearing light armor and weapons. Some eyed Alidorim with suspicion and scorn, while others leered unrepentantly at her and Yulia. Swallowing a nervous lump, she shielded the girl from view.

The final payment made the trio turned to leave. After only a couple of steps, Alidorim halted. One of the thugs had propped his leg upright in their path. His two companions chuckled. The Dragonborn growled before nudging the leg aside and continuing towards the door.

The man made a show of being pushed aside before standing. "Watch where ya going scaly!" he shouted squaring up to Alidorim blocking their path. "How can I work with a busted ankle?" His outraged expression morphed into lust as it drifted down to Lesmythe. Chuckling he said, "Maybe your slave can make it feel better." Yulia whimpered and huddled behind the Dragonborn.

"You have the little one," one of his companions chided, "You can spare the mongrel." A few other patrons laughed. The slur made Lesmythe blanch and look towards the floor. To her surprise, Alidorim joined in the laughter. Then she realized his laugh wasn't full of ill humor. It was deep and without joy.

Glaring down at the thug he growled, "I doubt you could reach even her lowest standards." The man looked at him in a mixture of anger and confusion. The Dragonborn continued. "Your behavior is amusing. I can't help but laugh." The man cursed but didn't get another word out. Alidorim's hands shot out and grabbed the front of his armor. The man's feet left the ground as he was hauled up to eye level. Lesmythe could only stare in surprise. Other patrons and the Innkeeper also gawked with mouths agape.

The thug gaged and clawed at the Dragonborn's arms. "Not so funny when you can't breathe," the master said in a low threatening tone. "Pathetic!" he growled before turning and flinging the man aside. The thug tumbled across a table before crashing to the floor. His companions leaped to their feet but were unsure what to do. Glaring at them Olkith said, "Anyone else have something funny to say about my companions?" The room was quiet save for the moans of the thug on the floor. With a growl, Alidorim lead them out of the Inn.

As they left Lesmythe heard a series of curses follow them out. It seemed they wouldn't be welcomed back to the Cooked Goose anytime soon.

"Father?" Yulia said, "Why you fight ugly man?" Lesmythe's ears quirked up at the question. Alidorim could've easily avoided the fight and they still would've had a cheap place to stay. A slave's honor wasn't worth much so why engage the drunkard?

After a few moments of silent contemplation, Alidorim finally answered. "He wanted what's mine," he growled, glancing sideways at Lesmythe, "No one will ever take from me again." The intensity of his tone made her shiver. He had described them as his property and yet he would allow no slight towards them. It was an odd contradiction to his attitude in the slave tent. Had that been an act? Or was this the act?

Julia smiled taking hold of the master's hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Thank you, father." Such a strange pair. Who were these people?


	21. Chapter 20 Job

**Chapter 20: Job**

Night had just draped itself across the land as Yulia's head rested in Lesmythe's lap. Though surprised the half-elf remained still. Instead, she draped her cloak about the girl to stave off the night's chill. The Tiefling would be tired. An afternoon of picking herbs and chasing every bit of wildlife she could find was bound to take a toll.

"Eat," Alidorim said, presenting Lesmythe with a fish skewered on a stick. She hesitated but then quickly took the offered food. Since leaving the city the woman had been silent, focusing on whatever task he set before her. Every so often he'd catch her looking at him her mouth open as if to speak. Then she'd look away as if rethinking the idea. Olkith had been content to ignore it while they worked but sitting across the fire the awkward stares needed to be addressed.

"Something you want to ask?" Lesmythe flinched slightly, but not enough to wake Yulia. She shook her head, suddenly becoming much more interested in her meal. Even in the low light, he could see the pink tinge in her ears. "Speak."

Lesmythe winced rubbing at her slave crest. His command hadn't activated it, but she appeared to anticipate its effect at any given moment. Like a phantom pain. Swallowing she obeyed, "I w-was wondering, who-who are you?"

"_That was it_?" Alidorim thought. Not sure why, but he'd expected a more interesting question. Shrugging he answered, "I'm a Dragonborn Adventurer."

She blinked, her ears going a shade pinker. "Dragonborn!" she exclaimed in a high whisper, ever conscious of the girl in her lap. "The slave race of the dragons?" Alidorim cocked his head at her and nodded. Her expression had changed as if she were reevaluating a preconceived notion. When pressed she said in a shame-filled voice, "I-I'm sorry master. I-I had assumed you were a dragonkin."

Alidorim's temper flared at the word but kept it under control. Dragonkin or Half-dragons were the results of magically infusing dragons with humans. It was an abomination of the highest order and half-dragons were almost always in service to the evil chromatic dragons. Dragonborn were birthed naturally, though their species origin remained a mystery. Either from the blood of the sundered god Io, or spat forth from the mouth of Bahamut, Dragonborn was as natural a race as elves, dwarves, and humans.

Most half-dragons were slightly bigger than their non-dragon parent and displayed features of their dragon parent. These draconic features could be as subtle as serpentine slit pupils, or so prominent that the subject appeared like a Dragonborn with wings and tail. As such he couldn't blame a life-long slave to know the difference if she'd never met one.

"S-so you're really a Dragonborn?" Alidorim nodded tossing another log onto the fire. Through the sparks and smoke, he could see the woman staring at him with a new sense of curiosity and wonder. Her thoughts were interrupted by another bout of coughing. He'd hoped the medicine would've cured her ailment.

"_Na_! _mazmyr_, _oizmyr_! _na_!" The shudder of the half-elf's body must've startled Yulia enough to bring out the nightmares. If Alidorim ever expected to get a decent night's sleep they'd need more of the sleeping draft. Lesmythe panicked at the child's outburst, unsure what to do. Alidorim was already on his feet and scooping the girl into his arms. Holding her close he hushed her gently. "_Mazmyr_, o_izmyr_," she mumbled before falling back into a fitful sleep.

Alidorim retook his seat resigning himself to another long night. As he sat he noticed the half-elf looking at Yulia with a concerned gaze. "Mother and father," he answered her unasked question, "that's what she said."

She blinked several times before staring sadly into the flames. "So, then they're…"

"Dead, yes," Alidorim finished. Through the heat of the flames, he could see the light reflected in unshed tears. A cloud of empathy settled over the woman. "_Another orphan_," he thought. He shouldn't have been surprised. All slaves had parents at one point, but their partings were never gentle. Being half-elf meant at least one of them was human and as such Lesmythe would've been shunned by greater elf society. He wondered if they had viewed her the same way as the men in the tavern.

"That man called you a mongrel," the words caused her to look up sharply. As anticipated, the slur angered as much as shamed her. There was also a bit of hurt as if she hadn't expected it to come from him. "You are a half-breed, aren't you?"

"My mother was human," she confirmed, her voice tight.

"Then your father was an elf," he said, "Ergo, a half-breed." Lesmythe's ears went pink again and she glared into the fire. Alidorim continued, "A bit of advice. Never forget what you are. The world won't." Lesmythe blinked once before meeting his gaze. There were tears, but the heat had already begun to evaporate them. "Own it and rob it of its power."

Lesmythe shot to her feet, fist clenched and staring daggers at the warrior. "And what do you know of it?" she snapped. Her anger was almost palpable over the scent of wood ashes. Almost immediately she regretted the words. Eyes going wide she covered her mouth. She apologized, prostrating herself before him.

Sighing, Olkith gestured for her to sit up. The outburst had been expected. He'd baited her and gotten the desired reaction. It was refreshing to see something other than hopeless pessimism. Alidorim's amber gaze burrowed into her. Despite trembling, the half-elf dared not look away. "Dragonborn, Dragonkin," he growled softly looking down at Yulia sleeping soundly in his arms, "Or Tieflings, it doesn't matter." Meeting her eyes, he said in a firm tone, "We're all mongrels or monsters to this world."

"This is some quality stuff," the apothecary said. He turned the various herbs over on his hands inspecting them with a trained eye. His earlier skepticism at their presence in his store evaporated the moment Alidorim set the bags of plants on the counter. "Stalk; unbroken. Leaves; still supple. Roots; virtually intact." He was practically salivating over the quality of the goods. "Where did you find these?"

"Woods outside city," Yulia said proudly pointing at the bushel of Pueraria, "I pick those!"

"You didn't know they grew wild," Alidorim commented glancing towards the window. The very same herbs flourished in a box, but they seemed more stunted than the ones they brought in.

The apothecary nodded, "Of course, but I've never seen wild ones plucked and preserved so perfectly." Staring at the group his tone dripped with accusation and doubt, "You're neither a herbalist nor pharmacist. How did you do it?"

Lesmythe felt annoyed at his disdain. She'd toiled an entire afternoon while being instructed by a five-year-old who knew more about herbs than she did. It gulled her that the man would question their ability to pull plants. Alidorim rested a hand on her shoulder. Its lightness surprised her more than the physical contact. Did he sense her frustration? Ever since their conversation the night before Lesmythe had felt more in tune with the Master, but she doubted he could read her that well…could he?

"You learn things on the road," he said in a flat emotionless tone, "How much?"

The apothecary shrugged at his answer before looking over the arrayed plants. Tapping his chin, he was mumbling some incoherent mathematics before finally saying, "For every pound, I'll pay five silver, and fifty copper." Alidorim agreed to the deal without even negotiating. Her master had haggled with the bald man over the cost of clothing and her weapons and with every merchant they dealt with since. Lesmythe wondered if this time they were getting a good price. Yulia was immensely pleased as the Dragonborn took the payment. The girl seemed to enjoy anything positive happening to her father. It made Lesmythe smile.

"A moment if you will, sir." They were just turning to leave when the apothecary came from behind his desk. Alidorim stepped forward in front of Yulia. He always did that; place himself between the Tiefling and others. It was almost a reflex. For his part, the apothecary didn't notice. He was staring at the copper plate bout the warrior's neck. "You are an Adventurer from the guild, yes?" Olkith nodded and the man looked relieved. "My useless assistant went to fetch some herbs a few days ago, but never returned."

Lesmythe looked on curiously as Alidorim arched an eyebrow at him. "You want us to find him?"

The Apothecary scoffed and shook his head, "Stars, no. The boy was a dunce and probably took the money meant to hire an escort and ran." Sighing he rubbed his temple for a moment as if trying to hold off a headache. "But I would like the herbs he was supposed to collect."

Lesmythe winced inwardly. That was rather cold, of the man. His assistant could very well be dead along with whoever he hired. If the herbs required him to employ an escort, then that meant the plants were rare and grew in an area far from the city. Most likely a dangerous area if he needed to engage adventurers. Then again, she lived in a world where life was cheap. Thirty silvers cheap as a matter of fact.

If Alidorim cared about the fate of the assistant, he didn't show it. "Where're these herbs?"

The apothecary smiled but he was wringing his hands and shuffling his feet as he answered. "Thundertree."


	22. Chapter 21 Courage

**Chapter 21: Courage**

After concealing the wagon and mule, loaned to them for the job, the trio continued towards the village. Gradually, the trail developed into an old, overgrown lane winding between dilapidated buildings choked in vines and brush. Ahead of them, in the middle of the settlement, rose a steep hill, upon which stood a stone tower with a partially collapsed rook adjoining a cottage. A dirt road hugged the base of the hill and wended its way between old stone houses, many of which were roofless ruins open to the weather. The whole place was draped by an eerie silence.

On the outskirts, they found a wooden sign nailed to a nearby post. A shiver ran up his spine that had nothing to do with the cool midmorning breeze. It read, 'DANGER, Turn Back! Only death dwells here!'

"Father," Yulia whined softly from behind his leg, "The air...feels...wrong." He'd forgotten the girl couldn't read common and was taking her cues from him. The Tiefling was practically quivering. Not knowing what to say he placed a hand reassuringly atop her head, before nodding to Lesmythe. Jaw tight the half-elf pulled the girl close to her.

He'd wanted so desperately to leave them both with the wagon, but neither could be persuaded to stay. Lesmythe's health had improved, but she wasn't ready for combat. Yulia...was Yulia. He could only pray that whatever threats they met he could handle them on his own. The apothecary had insisted the village was abandoned, but Alidorim couldn't help but feel doubt. He recalled a young lad in the guild mentioning monsters in Thundertree. He was hiring an escort to collect herbs. Had that been the long-lost assistant?

The Dragonborn wasn't taking any chances and made sure the girls stayed behind him. Drawing his short sword, he advanced into the village. The client had mentioned the herbs grew in heavily shaded areas in soil rich with volcanic ash. With the lanes exposed to direct sunlight that only left the buildings themselves to explore.

The first structure they approached was a crumbled stone cottage rampant with weeds cowering in the shadow of an old tree. Peeking through a window he saw nothing but rotted furniture and a pair of twisted saplings near the door.

Moving on they approached the next pair of buildings. These ruined, side-by-side cottages looked as though they might've housed some prosperous shopkeepers or well-off farmers in their time. All that remained were collapsed walls and piles of debris. Several young trees grew up amid rubble and masonry. He got a good look inside the cottages before retreating. No herbs but one of the flagstones had been pried up from the floor recently.

When he explained what he'd seen Lesmythe suggested that the assistant's party may have been looting while he collected herbs. That might also explain the assistant's disappearance. His escort was too busy looking for treasure rather than doing their jobs.

The theories could wait. They still had many buildings to search and plenty of daylight left.

A weathered signboard by the door of the next building depicted the faded image of a workhorse holding a flagon of ale. The large building was sagging and dilapidated, but it was more intact than the previous ruins. Weapon ready, Alidorim entered what had once been a tavern. In the dim light of the room, he spotted four humanoid corpses scattered about the room beneath mounds of packed ash. Even after thirty years the smell of yeast still permeated the air amidst the scents of mold and decomposition.

Alidorim's hackles rose as he heard Yulia whimper. She was gripping Lesmythe's hand, face buried in her cloak. Wide-eyed and pale the woman pointed. Alidorim turned in time to see one of the previously immobile mounds begin to rise. The packed ash crumbled away revealing one of the town's previous residents, half-rotted. Raising its arms, the desiccated corpse twisted its sunken features in the direction of the trio. Its mouth opened impossibly wide and issued a stomach-churning moan.

The prescient warning outside the village suddenly became abundantly clear.

Yulia screamed in terror, but the Dragonborn was already moving. In two strides he closed the distance and slammed the hilt of his weapon into the creature's skull. Dried flesh and fragile bone shattered in a puff of grey smoke.

"Look out!" Lesmythe yelled. The three other corpses were beginning to stir. Alidorim had to move quickly lest one of the creatures' slip passed him. Drawing his arming sword, he leaped toward the first zombie, cleaving its head in twain before it had a chance to fully rise.

The second one was just beginning to reach for him when the short sword opened his chest and face in an upward slash. A cloud of grey smoke spewed from where its innards should've been. Alidorim swiped at his face as his eyes burned. Coughing and gagging, he could barely make out the fourth zombie lurching toward him. He slashed hoping to catch his attacker, but he'd misjudged the distance and hit only air.

The zombie slammed into him. Unable to see straight Alidorim was grappled to the floor by the undead. He was forced to release his weapons to keep the creature at bay. The Dragonborn struggled but couldn't get the leverage to turn the tables, but neither did the walking corpse have the strength to press his advantage.

"Lesmythe! Stab him!" he growled struggling just to maintain his position. He could smell the rot on the zombies' breath. Through the haze, he could just make out the half-elf standing back shielding Yulia. They both looked terrified. "In the head!" he shouted as his shoulders strained to hold the creature, "Hurry!"

"I can't!" she yelled, her voice quivering. She was shaking so fiercely her hands trembled uncontrollably. Just then her crest blossomed with light and she screamed, collapsing to her knees she clutched at her chest. Yulia yelped in alarm, ducking down and covering her head. She was saying something in Infernal, but he couldn't make out what.

"Lesmythe!" The teeth gnashed mere inches from his snout, "I can't fight this thing and protect Yulia!" The woman still knelt on the ground groaning beneath the pain of her disobedience. Did she truly prefer the pain over aiding him? Snarling the Dragonborn regained some distance but the creature remained firmly latched on. "If you can't help than your no good to me!" Grunting he managed to get a forearm beneath its chin and lever it upwards. "I'll take you back and find a slave who will!"

"No!" both Yulia and Lesmythe shouted.

"Then don't give in to fear!" he ordered turning his face away as undeath loomed closer and closer.

Suddenly a length of metal pierced the zombies' skull. The creature groaned once before falling limp. Growling in frustration he rolled it off and rose to his feet. The half-elf stood before him, blade in hand and breathing as heavily as her owner. The slave crest was no longer glowing. Eyes wide with shock Lesmythe said, "P-please m-master...d-don't throw me away." Her tone was desperate, almost pleading. It...wasn't what he'd expected.

She had obeyed. It took threatening to abandon her, but she had obeyed. More than that Lesmythe had used her weapon to save him and protect Yulia. Placing a hand on her shoulder Alidorim nodded respectfully, before turning to a quietly weeping Yulia. The girl embraced her father asking if he was okay and apologizing profusely for not helping.

After comforting her he said in as soothing a tone as he could muster, "This is our life, Yulia." Looking up at Lesmythe he added, "We do what we must to survive." This was their reality and they needed to live. There was nothing else but to fight for survival.

Unfortunately, there was also no time to question why undead would be infesting an abandoned village. They still had a job to do. He could only hope that between himself and Lesmythe's newfound courage they could handle any additional threats.

Even without the undead, Thundertree was a very bleak place. Everywhere she looked amidst the decay and ruin she saw signs of life. A smithy with tools scattered about an unfinished project, a plow in the middle of an overgrown field, a doll half-buried in the dirt. This was a village in the middle of living when whatever disaster had forced its abandonment. The apothecary had mentioned volcanic ash, so maybe the distant Mt. Hotenow had erupted? That would've been before she was born and it would explain the hasty evacuation, and why some hadn't made it.

Lesmythe shivered as she remembered the reanimated corpses shambling toward them. The icy grasp of fear on her heart that shocked her to inaction. The half-elf wasn't sure where it came from, but somehow, she found the courage to act. Her body had moved on its own, drawing the long knife and plunging it into the zombie's head. She could still recall the feeling of her blade piercing blighted flesh and bone.

"Don't give in to fear!" Alidorim had ordered. Had his command coupled with the effects of the slave crest overridden her terror? No. She had still been afraid, even the pain from the crest hadn't been enough to force her to act. So, maybe it was...something else?

Looking on she watched as the Dragonborn comforted his 'daughter.' The gentleness with which he spoke to her belied the violence he was capable of inflicting. She was berating herself for not staying at the wagon with Yulia, but if she had then would Alidorim have survived the zombies?

Seeing how he soothed the child and the look of love she returned filled her with a warmth she couldn't quite identify. What she did know was that this was her life now. She'd do whatever she must in order to survive.

They scoured the remnants of Thundertree for the herbs, but with little luck. Neither did they find any clues as to the whereabouts of the assistant and his escort. They did find evidence of their presence. In an herbalist shop they found unattended herbs growing rampant. In one section the soil had been turned as if someone had been digging. In a ruined store they found an abandoned knapsack, inside was an unused healing potion and 23 gold and 35 silver pieces. Whoever had dropped it had either been too scared to care or had no further need for it.

They encountered a couple more undead in an old garrison, but Alidorim was able to dispatch them. She had to admit that even taken by surprise he moved with disciplined grace. He must've honed his skills over the years of traveling alone. Or did he have a teacher? A family?

Looking at her master Lesmythe couldn't help but wonder, "How long has he been doing this alone?"

"Ah we have guests!" a voice called out.


	23. Chapter 22 Lair

**Chapter 22: Lair**

"Ah, we have guests!"

Alidorim's weapons were up in an instant, and Lesmythe stood just behind him, knife drawn. Yulia did her best to remain as small as possible. Casting their gaze about the adults tried to determine the direction the voice had come. Their eyes settled on a small farmhouse near the edge of the village.

At first glance, it appeared to be just another empty home. However, all the doors were shut, and windows shuttered. They couldn't see inside but sure enough, someone could see them.

"I dare say, is that a Strixiki?" a second voice said. Alidorim's ears quirked at the draconic word for Dragonborn.

"I do believe it is," the first voice said excitedly, "How fortuitous." At that moment three men exited the farmhouse, arms not quite raised but showing they had no weapons. Olkith refused to lower his. They wore all black with cloaks cut to resemble wings and leather masks with stylized horns. "Greetings strangers," the lead man said. His white hair and pale lower jaw were the only features he could see. "I'm Favric. What brings you to Thundertree?"

Though they weren't attacking everything about the men screamed wickedness. Their hands were empty, but their robes could easily conceal many types of weapons. Then there was their use of draconic. Not since the dark days of his people had they been called Strixiki.

"Collecting herbs," Alidorim stated fixing the men with a hard glare hoping to dissuade any foolish action. If Favric hoped to learn their identity, he would be left wanting.

One of the other men scoffed. "Just like the last group," he murmured.

"Last group?" Alidorim asked sounding mildly curious and confused, "There are others out here?" He managed to sound calm despite the twisting sensation in his gut. Like his name he couldn't give the men any information to use against them.

Favric sighed disappointedly. "Indeed," gesturing grandly he said, "But the Great Green One demanded them as a tribute."

"Great...Green One?" Lesmythe mumbled gripping her long-knife tighter. The word 'Tribute' did not sit well with Alidorim. Whoever this 'Green One' was the men appeared infatuated with him. He hadn't pegged the men as common bandits based on their garb, but he was starting to wish they were.

"Father something...feel wrong," Yulia whimpered clutching at Lesmythe's leg.

"They have a Tiefling," another voice called out from his left. Shocked Alidorim repositioned himself to shield the child. He saw a fourth man in black pull away from the shadows of a building. A glance over his shoulder revealed another pair blocking the way they'd come. He sensed no magic, meaning these men were highly skilled in stealth.

"A member of the cursed race?" Favric said cheerfully as if a gift had landed in his lap. "Oh, this will surely please the Great One." Smiling he held his arms out to the Dragonborn. "You who wear the same visage as the Great Green One, will be honored most of all."

'...Same...visage...?' He swore under his breath. If he resembled this Green One then that could only mean these men were followers of another Dragonborn, or possibly even a Dragonkin. The horned masks and wing-shaped cloaks suddenly made more sense. These men weren't bandits. They were dragon cultists.

Damn! Alidorim could handle three, but six attacking from all sides were long odds. A fighting retreat would only get them surrounded again, if not picked off. Surrender was certainly not an option either. It was already bad enough, but their fascination with him and Yulia sent a chill up his spine.

Thinking quickly, he came up with a more viable strategy. He just needed to buy time until they found an opportunity to escape or turn the tables on the men. The cultists were expecting them to resist so...

Both Yulia and Lesmythe squeaked in surprise as he sheathed his weapons. "We would be honored to meet the Great Green One," he declared. The cultists were outwardly shocked, but Favric looked immensely pleased. The girls started to argue. He silenced them with a warning glare. Looking at Yulia he said in a low tone, "Stay close to Lesmythe." He made sure to speak in Infernal so only they could understand. "Run when I say."

Lesmythe had picked up enough of the language to get the gist of what he was suggesting. Bowing a bit more than usual she said in common, "As you say, Master." Fear quivered within her eyes but there was also a reluctant trust.

Turning back to Favric, Alidorim gestured for him to lead the way. The Cultist was all too eager to do so. The man was either extremely gullible or very confident in his group's skills. If they took down a group of silver ranks then they weren't slouches. Whoever this Green One was, gave Favric a sense of security. He didn't mind showing his back to the group or disarming them. He and two of his men took the lead. Gritting his teeth, Alidorim followed while the other three brought up the rear effectively blocking any escape. They headed in the direction of the hill.

At the top of the hill stood a round tower with a cottage attached. Both were in good condition, although the tower roof was gone. A single door leads into the cottage, but several arrow slits stared down from the face of the tower.

The same eerie quiet they'd encountered in the village was much heavier as if nature itself dared not whisper. An acrid stench filled the air. The corpses of two hideous giant spiders sprawled near the edge of the pathway. Their puckered and blistered bodies looked as if they'd been mauled by a large animal. The sight made Alidorim falter a step. His hackles rose as his muscles tensed, but he continued to follow the cultists. Yulia was whimpering again, while Lesmythe did her best to keep her calm.

Two of the cultists remained outside while Favric lead the rest inside. Other than dusty furniture the cottage was remarkably bare. The tower was another story entirely. A single room with a 40ft high ceiling, and a wide staircase circling the interior. Sunlight filtered through a massive open hole in the ceiling.

"Step no closer!" commanded a deep hissing voice from somewhere in the shadows. The entire group obeyed. "Who dares to enter my lair?" Alidorim clenched his hands to keep from shaking. The voice carried such a heavy presence his knees nearly buckled.

Favric bent at the waist. "My Lord, I come once again to treat with you."

There was a massive hiss followed by a deep throaty growl. "Words are useless without a tribute to give them weight." Favric cleared his throat nervously before nodding to one of his men. The cultist hesitated before walking out into the middle of the room. From his robes, he produced a small coffer. Setting it down the man beat a hasty retreat.

"Oh Gods," Lesmythe gasped and Alidorim felt the color leave his face. From the shadows appeared a massive four-fingered hand. Sunlight glinted off of dark green scales but failed to reflect off of its black claws. The reptilian digits disappeared back into the darkness along with the chest.

There was the sound of a satisfied sigh that hissed like ocean spray. "So much better than your last tribute Favric," the voice chuckled deeply, "They barely constituted a snack." Alidorim gulped. At least the fate of the missing assistant appeared to be solved.

Dread anticipation filled him as he heard a great fleshy mass slither across the ground displacing wood and stone. Like a curtain, the shadows parted revealing a large serpentine body supported by four muscular legs and enveloped by huge leathery wings. Yellow eyes stared down the length of its snout with a heartless malevolence that only a predator could invoke.

Alidorim had been so very wrong and his assumption may get them all killed.

The green dragon expanded its wings declaring, "What words do you bring the great Venomfang!"


	24. Chapter 23 Cult

**Chapter 23: Cult**

Alidorim knew fear.

Fear was cold. It shocked the very soul like a polar plunge. His pulse would race, but it left stout hearts frozen and numbed the mind to thinking. Skilled hands would shake, and every breath would burn like ice in one's chest. Fear was likened to the hand of death. Once within its grasp, His fate was almost assured.

Alidorim was no stranger to fear. It had set his mind to panic in Triboar. It had dragged him down the night he carried Yulia through the storm. He'd seen it in the eyes of a trio of Goblins. In the Evermoors, he'd fought it. Far to the south on a mountain trail so long ago he'd faced it.

Fear was as familiar as breathing. What Alidorim felt now...was terror.

"What words do you bring the great Venomfang!" the Green One declared.

Almost at once Fenric and his followers bent a knee in supplication. "Oh, mighty Venomfang we count ourselves blessed to know your name!"

Alidorim tried not to flinch in surprise. The cultist had already spoken to the dragon before and was just now learning its name? Did Venomfang not completely trust the cultists? That would make sense. Green Dragons were known as master manipulators. That also made them highly paranoid, especially when it came to guarding their lairs and hordes.

They'd come to Thundertree to find herbs. He had no idea they would end up facing a dragon. Maybe with a full party of silver ranked adventurers they could stand a chance, but it was just him. Could he fight a dragon and protect Yulia and Lesmythe at the same time?

No! He didn't have time to think otherwise. Alidorim just had to do it, with whatever skill he had. Maybe...just maybe...it would be enough for Yulia and Lesmythe to escape.

Glancing over his shoulder he saw the tears on the Tiefling's cheeks. She clung to a trembling Lesmythe. "I promise everything will be okay," he said in a hushed tone. Despite the fear in her eyes the half-elf nodded. Alidorim turned back towards the dragon just as Fenric began to speak again.

"Lord, I am but a humble messenger." He waited until Venomfang nodded before continuing, "The great goddess's time is nigh. She calls her children home." There was a moment of silence as the monster contemplated the man's words. Then the green dragon began to chuckle. That chuckle grew into a deep throaty laugh that shook the very air.

"Is that all?" the great Green One demanded, his voice taking on an icy edge. "Empty platitudes and a rallying call from a dead god?"

Whatever the cultist had expected, this was not the reaction they'd wanted. Perhaps realizing that his life hung in the balance, Fenric started to panic. The cultist began to gesture towards the Dragonborn and his companions, "If that is not to your satisfaction, I offer up these Sl-."

"—Servants!" Alidorim cut in. He wasn't sure who this Goddess was, or what the cultist's agenda was, but Fenric was desperate. If he read the cult leader right, Olkith had no desire to be his sacrificial lamb. "We are your...humble servants." He went to one knee, bowing his head respectfully. He had to be smart. Venomfang was a young dragon but still well over twenty feet long, with a wingspan twice that. At his full height, Alidorim barely came up to the dragon's shoulder. With armored scales, there were few if any vulnerable spots, and if he attacked straight on his teeth and claws would rend the warrior's armor in seconds.

Venomfang considered the Dragonborn for a moment. Fenric attempted to regain the dragon's attention and favor but fell silent beneath a glare. "You once served my ancestors." Its head lowered to stare Alidorim directly in the face. "How will you serve me now?"

Alidorim swallowed a lump in his throat. Thinking quickly, he unslung the satchel they'd found earlier along with his purse. "By first offering a token of my fealty." Slowly he laid out the coins and healing potion before him. "Please accept this poultry sum and slaves," Lesmythe and Yulia flinched appropriately as the dragon's gaze shifted towards them, "From a servant whose value is in his sword."

Venomfang hummed as he considered the Tiefling and Half-elf. His head slid closer until he was near enough to sniff the small mound of treasure. The cultists bowed in reverence. As the gold and silver coins caught the light a look of greed filled the dragon's expression.

Venomfang had been right. The Dragonborn had been slaves to the Dragon Lords of old. For centuries they'd served them in their courts, enslaved their enemies, and died on their battlefields. His people had attempted countless revolts only to be quashed every time. Their freedom only came during the Spellplague that brought his people to Toril. It had cost them their world, but they were finally free.

"And we will stay free," his mind affirmed.

Blinded by the golden haze, he didn't see Alidorim's hand go to the knife at his hip.

"RUN!" He shouted as the blade flashed upward. Venomfang screamed in pain, dark blood spraying from where his right eye had been. Alidorim didn't wait to see if the girls obeyed. He prayed they did. Blood still glistened in the air as he sprinted towards the spiral staircase. Fenric stumbled backward in shock, but one of his men rose to block the Dragonborn's path. A dagger appeared in the man's hand before the warrior's short sword removed it at the elbow.

"Traitors!" Venomfang bellowed whipping its head back and forth, "Liars! I'll have your blood!" With that, his jaws parted. A toxic scent filled the room as a great plume of green smoke billowed forth. Cultists screamed as they were engulfed. Their cries quickly faded to gurgles as the poison when to work on their gullets and lungs.

Even being on the upper landing and above the cloud of poison, the acrid stench burned his eyes and made his throat clench. Alidorim couldn't stop. He hadn't heard Yulia or Lesmythe scream so they must've escaped. If they had any chance of getting away, then he couldn't waste his time coughing.

Drawing his blades, Alidorim launched himself off the landing. Far below him curled the great green one still spitting curses and poison. There were no second-guesses, nor second chances. The Dragonborn had to make every strike count!

"Father!" Yulia screamed, but Lesmythe had snatched her up the moment edged metal parted draconic flesh. The cultists were either too busy being supplicant or staring dumbfounded as their 'God' writhed in pain.

"Traitors! Liars!" the dragon had roared, "I'll have your blood!" There was the sound, like a great wind building up. She was shoulder barging the door to the cottage by the time it reached its peak. Outside the pair of cultists shouted in shock and alarm. They'd just started to reach for them when several screams were carried out on a cloud of poisonous green smoke. Lesmythe kept running even as the two cultists fell clutching out their throats. Another almighty roar erupted from the tower but Lesmythe didn't look back. She didn't slow until they came to the base of the hill.

"Father!" Yulia cried into the half-elf's shoulder. Lesmythe stroked her hair. Though gasping for breath she managed to whisper soothing words to the child. Behind her, she heard heavy footsteps. Relief filled her. Alidorim must've gotten out through another entrance. Turning a cold hand gripped her heart. Instead of the Dragonborn, they found themselves staring into the bloodshot eyes of a white-haired man wearing black robes. Fenric had a rag pressed to his face and looked almost as surprised to see them as they were him.

Another deafening roar shook the trees causing all of them to recoil. They looked back at the tower just in time to see the remains of the roof explode outward. Great wings bore the green dragon aloft. Lesmythe held Yulia closer as she screamed in fear. Lesmythe was bout to run when she noticed something. Venomfang wasn't banking to begin pursuit. Rather he was twisting and turning, roaring in pain and frustration. As it flipped about, she caught a glimpse of a crimson figure clad in armor clinging to its back. Lesmythe could hardly believe what she was seeing.

"Father!" Yulia called out.

At the sound of the girl's voice, the dragon cultist seemed to remember who they were and what their master had wrought. "You!" Fenric hissed brandishing an ornately curved dagger. Lesmythe took several steps back, dropping Yulia and pushing the girl behind her. "You and that Strixiki ruined everything!"

"Yulia go!" Lesmythe ordered doing her best to keep the quiver out of her voice. The Tiefling looked up at her, tears streaming down her face. "Everything will be alright," she said trying to sound reassuring.

"No!" she sobbed. Her lips trembled as terror filled her gaze. "Pazmyr said same thing!" Yulia grasped at the woman's skirt. "Lesmythe no leave me too!" The half-elf didn't know where to begin understanding what the girl meant, but the overwhelming sense of loss and grief resonated within her soul. Yulia's pleading tore at her heart but there was no time to argue. Fenric was advancing with murderous intent.

"Yulia, run!" the half-elf cried drawing her knife. It felt like a pitiful weapon in her tiny hands, but she held it firm. She had to protect Yulia, just as her master had directed.

"Months of planning!" he bellowed not even glancing at the blade, "I'll gut you both!"

Lesmythe slashed at the air trying to dissuade her attacker, but the cultist continued his advance. "In the house Yulia," she ordered, and the girl finally obeyed, closing and latching the door behind her. Now Lesmythe didn't have to worry so much about protecting the Tiefling.

"Loreat wux riika!" Venric shouted. He charged sweeping aside the half-elf's guard and slamming his shoulder into her chest.

Lesmythe stumbled back, crashing through the damaged door. Yulia screamed in fright, ducking behind an overturned table. Desperately the woman tried to keep her feet but failed. She scrambled backward as Fenric stalked towards her. Lesmythe felt around for her weapon but she'd lost it in the fall. Shouting curses, the man stabbed downward with the knife. Her hands grasped a section of wood. She brought it up just in time to block the attack. The point sank into a length of plank still attached to the door handle.

Frustrated the cultist attempted to withdraw the weapon, but it was stuck fast. Growling he heaved upward with all his might. The exertion pulled Lesmythe to her feet and she found herself lurching forward. Momentum carried her into Fenric, slamming him into the wall. Stunned the cultist released the weapon. The half-elf couldn't let the opportunity pass. Yelling an incoherent warcry she slammed the section of the door into the man's head. She hit him again and again and again, driving him down until he slumped lifelessly to the floor.

For a moment she couldn't take her eyes of the ruined remains of Fenric's face. Her stomach began to churn as the implications set in. She'd just killed a man. Knees weak she turned and wretched. She'd just killed a man, but Yulia was safe. Though her insides rebelled at the scent of blood and gore her mind remained steady. Lesmythe had done as her master had ordered.

"No..." she realized, "I did it because it was my duty. Because I wanted to." Lesmythe would continue to do so even at the expense of men like Fenric. For her master and for Yulia.

"Yulia," she said wiping a bit of bile from her mouth. No answer. "Yulia!" she called out. Turning she found the ruined house empty.


	25. Chapter 24 Dragon

**Chapter 24: Dragon**

Alidorim clung to the handle of his sword for dear life. The torrents of wind threatened to dislodge him. The blade hadn't penetrated the dragon's body but was jammed between two scales. Venomfang spun and twisted doing everything he could to remove him.

Glancing down he saw that they were still relatively close to the ground. If he leaped, he stood a chance at survival. But that left a mostly intact and enraged dragon in the air. He had to bring the beast to the ground or there would be nowhere they could flee.

Even as he flipped his arming sword around, his mind railed, "_This is such a bad idea_!" Before he could talk himself out of it, he released the handle of his other weapon. Flying backward he stabbed the length of steel downward. With a sound like tearing fabric, the thin wing membrane parted with. Venomfang's shriek of pain was drowned out by the roar of the wind as Alidorim plummeted earthward.

The Dragonborn barely had time to cover his face before the bright greens of a tree canopy filled his vision. Twigs and limbs stabbed, poking and gouging at his body. Stout branches smacked his chest, back, and shoulders. After an eternity of being pummeled Alidorim crashed to the ground. The wind flew from his lungs and he had to gasp in order to reclaim it.

He only had a brief moment to realize he'd landed near the village square when a massive green form plowed into the earth. Ruined walls crumbled and the statue in the center of the square wavered and fell.

Alidorim would've smiled if it didn't hurt to breathe. His sense of victory was short-lived as he detected movement within the dust kicked up by the impact. A large form was rising and even through the haze, he saw the hate in its eyes. Alidorim struggled to get to his feet but his arms and gets wouldn't obey.

"Here I was looking for that cursed _Strixiki_," the Dragonborn froze at the words, "Instead I find a demon." Standing near the center of the square the Dragon was prowling towards a small quivering form.

"_Yulia!_" Recovering his weapon, he levered himself upward. Though his left leg refused to bear weight, he managed to stand. Growling he staggered forward.

Terrified, Yulia turned and started to run. Venomfang was instantly in her path, teeth bared. She gasped and stumbled backward. The dragon slowly stalked his prey.

"Y-y-you d-d-dragon!" she cried, eyes wide with terror.

"How perceptive of you, child," he growled raising one of its claws to strike.

Alidorim's legs pumped madly as he cleared the courtyard in several great strides. Venomfang's claws came down, shattering the cobblestones where Yulia had just been standing. Alidorim tumbled across the ground clutching the Tiefling to his chest. The moment they rolled to a halt, the Dragonborn shoved the girl behind his back and brandished his sword.

"Ah, there you are," the dragon purred with sadistic glee.

Alidorim tried to not let the pain show on his face. Though his leg was starting to feel better, his chest still ached from his landing. He'd hoped to get clear of the village and rejoin Yulia and Lesmythe while the dragon tended its wounds. Olkith hadn't expected to find Yulia alone! Had something happened to the half-elf? He couldn't think about her right then. His sole focus had to be protecting Yulia and getting out alive.

"Everything will be okay, Yulia," Alidorim growled clutching his weapon.

"Precious," chuckled the great green one flexing its haunches, "You really think you can save the little one." It suddenly leaped way faster than Alidorim anticipated. "I want your blood!" A vicious backhand sent Olkith flying to the base of the fallen statue. Venomfang lunged again, but the Dragonborn recovered enough to dodge. He narrowly avoided the snap of its jaws, but not its tail. He gasped as the air rushed from his lungs again. Crashing to the ground he struggled to draw breath. Something warm dripped down from his scalp.

Somehow, he had managed to hold onto his weapon, but that was the only silver lining. Alidorim groaned as he struggled to rise. He coughed and crimson liquid speckled the ground.

The dragon crowed victoriously as it towered over the wounded warrior. "What was it you promised the child?" Venomfang stalked towards him, claws cracking against the cobblestones. It glared with utter impertinence. "That everything would be okay?" He chuckled evilly not even bothering to look back at the terrified girl. "How's that plan going so far?"

Slowly Olkith managed to get to one knee. Something in his torso stabbed sharp and it nearly put him down. The pain clouding his mind, but he still tried to focus. Alidorim still had his sword, but what good would that do against armored scales? He had no other choice.

Summoning up his energy he launched himself forward. He was passed Venomfang's claws in an instant. Shouting defiantly, the Dragonborn stabbed straight and true. The arming sword struck the beast square in the chest, the point finding its way between two scales…and snapped.

Alidorim could only watch as the folded steel of his weapon bent and broke against the dragon's hide. Laughter filled the air as Venomfang looked down at him, clutching his useless weapon. "A brave effort, but utterly futile."

The backhand came from nowhere and Alidorim crashed to the ground again. The remains of his sword flew from view. The Dragonborn tried to stand but the pain in his chest grew worse. Something in his leg felt wrong.

"How're you going to save the demon, if you can't save yourself?" The dragon hissed furiously. It raised another hand to strike. "Never make promises you can't keep!" A rock suddenly bounced off the side of the dragon's head. Not enough to hurt, but it did distract him.

Yulia stood arm outstretched with the other clutching a second stone. "You remember my village?" she said as tears streamed down her face. Through the pain, Alidorim heard the girl's words. "My mother? My father!" her tiny body was shaking in a mixture of terror and rage. "You remember all the people you killed?"

"_So that what happened_," Alidorim thought despondently, "_That's why you were alone_."

Staring at her with a mix of confusion and amusement, Venomfang, sneered, "I don't recall laying waste to your family."

"It's all dragons fault!" she cried out throwing the other stone. "The world is wrong because of dragons!"

The dragon barely glanced at the pebble as it bounced off his neck. Scoffing the beast didn't even bother facing the quivering child. "The young are always so quick to pass judgment," he glared down at the girl flashing its teeth, "The strong feed on the weak. That is the nature of the world." Venomfang suddenly turned to confront the Tiefling, eyes aglow with savagery. "I don't recall killing your parents, and I doubt I'll remember killing you!"

Anger boiled up with the warrior. Monsters like the dragon knew no mercy or conscience. They felt no remorse for the lives they shattered. A wave of energy swept through his body, numbing the pain. So much had been taken from Yulia and this…beast had the gall to make a mockery of her pain! "Damn you!" Alidorim shouted. He ran and jumped straight towards the Dragon; fist raised. "Stay away from her!"

Venomfang didn't even look worried as the Dragonborn sailed towards him. If a sword couldn't penetrate his hide, a fist was of little consequence. It didn't matter whether Alidorim could or couldn't do any harm. What mattered was risking his life protecting those close to him!

A terrifying roar ripped from Alidorim's throat. The air cracked like thunder as the armored gauntlet connected with the side of the Dragon's head. The power behind the blow sent Venomfang crashing into the ruins of a nearby building. The structure toppled and caved in, smothering the beast's curses in a shower of stone, and wood.

Lesmythe had been searching for Yulia when the sounds of combat finally reached her. It hadn't occurred to her until then that the Tiefling would be in the middle of it. The girl had been scared and would naturally have sought out her father, even though he had ordered them to run.

Lesmythe arrived in the square just as the dragon disappeared beneath the rubble. Alidorim staggered once and fell to his knees. Yulia was there, at the Dragonborn's side. Lesmythe ran to join them.

"Master I—" her words were cut off when she saw the state of his body. His armor was in tatters, blood streamed down the side of his head and nose. His entire right forearm was a mess of discolored scales and deformed muscle. Lesmythe wasn't sure how he was even still conscious. There was so much she hadn't witnessed, but the half-elf was sure of one thing. Somehow Alidorim had defeated a green dragon by himself.

Coming out of his fugue, the Dragonborn looked up at them. Chest heaving, the warrior was doing his best to conceal the level of pain he was in. Yulia was in tears burying her head into his shoulder, mumbling thanks and apologies in Infernal.

Through the mask of blood, Alidorim looked relieved. "Let's get out of here," he gasped through clenched teeth. His knee buckled as he started to rise, but Lesmythe was there to catch him. Nodding his thanks Alidorim noted the blood spattering on her outfit. "You hurt?" he asked.

Lesmythe shook her head. She was about to explain when his head snapped around. That was when she heard it too. The sounds of shifting rubble.


	26. Chapter 25: Prey

**Chapter 25: Prey**

"_No…it can't be_!" Turning the mound of crumbled masonry was swelling and shifting. Grey rock and brown wood fell away revealing green scales. Terror swelled within him as he shoved Yulia and Lesmythe behind him. Olkith had put all his might into that hit, even some energy he didn't realize was there. But even with a building collapsing on him, it still wasn't enough to stop Venomfang.

Yulia was crying into his leg as the Green Dragon rose from its improvised grave. This wasn't good. What was he supposed to do? What could he do? Both of Alidorim's weapons were gone and his right arm was a mess. One eye was awash with crimson while he had trouble focusing with other. One, possibly even two of his ribs were broken, making it hard to breathe.

Venomfang extricated himself from the building and was glaring hatefully at the trio. Rage rolled off the Dragon in thick waves. It nearly sent Alidorim to his knees again, but he managed to stay upright.

"You know," hissed Venomfang, flexing his tattered wings, "at first I was content with just killing and eating you." His claws dug into the ground cracking the cobblestones. "But now," his flanks quivered with each growling syllable, "What I'm about to do to you…I'm going to savor it!"

Alidorim had been slowly backing toward the edge of the plaza. His wounds would make his own escape impossible, but at the very least he could buy Yulia and Lesmythe time to flee into the forest. The half-elf was bound by her crest to take care of the girl. But…Alidorim was injured and exhausted. The dragon was sure to make quick work of him and then go after the girls.

"_I have no other choice_," Alidorim thought, shoving the pair further behind him. "_I have to hold him as long as I can_." Drawing his knife, he prepared himself. "_No one will ever take from me again_." He'd come so far and fought so hard to get to Neverwinter. Now, in the middle of a ruined village, all he wanted to do was use the last ounce of his strength to protect a broken slave and a scared child.

"Stay back," he growled feeling his grip tighten. "When it's time, run as fast as you can."

Yulia was whimpering and he could feel her tiny hands gripping at his back. "You're-you're attacking him again," Lesmythe said incredulously. Alidorim only grunted by way of response. "Master, you can't!" she cried, tears in her voice.

"Father, no!" Yulia said, but the Dragonborn gently but firmly pushed the girl into the woman's arms.

"It's going to be okay," he said, but the words tasted like ash in his mouth. With an almighty roar that shook the ground, Venomfang lunged. "Go now!" Alidorim braced himself but realized he wasn't the target.

The claws stretched out reaching for Yulia and Lesmythe. Their screams intermixed with the green monster's maniacal laughter. Suddenly Alidorim was there catching the outstretched hands. Each of Venomfang's claws engulfed his, but he refused to give an inch. Grunting and growling he strained to keep the digits from getting any closer to the girls.

Though he'd missed his intended target, the dragon seemed content with Alidorim's suffering. "What's wrong _Strixiki_?" Venomfang taunted, unimpressed by the Dragonborn's defiance. Alidorim barred his teeth, but the dragon was well aware of his waning strength. "You seem tired," he purred, "Don't tell me you've reached your limit?"

"F-f-father?" he heard Yulia whimper behind him.

He couldn't bring himself to look at her. To see her fear, would break his heart. "…fine…its fine…!" The anguish in every tone betrayed the lie, but he couldn't give up, even as the dragon bore down on him. "I won't let him get past me!" he shouted, feeling the tendons rupture in both arms. Where the claws touched, blood poured. "So…run!" He sensed Lesmythe attempting to drag the girl away, but Yulia refused, trying desperately to stay with her father. "Go now!" he barked, over the sound of cartilage cracking.

"Yes run!" mocked the dragon, not even bothering to look down at the Dragonborn, "Make a bit a sport for me!"

Rage flared within the warrior's chest, but it was a paltry flame compared to the beast before him. "Shut up!" Alidorim shouted even as his arms and legs began to buckle. His heart pounded against his breast as sweat mixed with crimson ran down his rent flesh.

He could hear Lesmythe begging through tears, and Yulia was screaming. The words were muffled by distance. "_They're escaping_," a voice praised, offering a small bit of relief.

"Show me your blood, _Strixiki_!" Venomfang crowed bearing down even more. Alidorim tasted copper in his clenched jaws. Pain lanced up his legs as he went to one knee. Venomfang was laughing again. "A true _Strixiki_ knows to kneel before their gods!" The dragon flexed his muscles and Alidorim was slammed to the ground. On his back, his arms bore the full weight of the dragon. The great Green One's maniacal laughter filled the air, rolling like thunder, echoing within his skull. "Now die slave!" Venomfang roared delivering the final crushing blow. Bone and muscle snapped as the claws came down.

"Yulia…" he gasped. Somewhere far away he could hear the girl's voice, calling out to him. Alidorim could almost see her smile and feel her tiny hand on his. "Yulia…I'm sorry." Her crimson hair flying about as she played amongst the trees. Alidorim tried to keep up with her but the girl was too quick. "…I…I couldn't keep my promise…" Dark eyes that had known too much pain in this world, sparkled with laughter. "I…I'm sorry…" His throat clenched and he felt the tears run down his face.

"_Oizmyr_!" A voice rang out. White light filled his vision, and suddenly the weight was lifted off his body. Three lances of white-hot energy arced through the air and struck Venomfang in the side of his head. The dragon roared in pain as what remained of the eye cauterized in its skull. Yulia was standing over him, hand raised. Tears soaked her face as otherworldly energies curled around her tiny body. She was shaking and looked completely drained, but her voice was strong and clear. "Stay away from him!"

"Yu…lia…" Alidorim could only groan. He could hardly believe his eyes. When they'd first met, she'd been too scared to meet his eye. Now she was standing up to dragons. Who was this brave girl?

Venomfang stared hatefully at the Tiefling. The magic had hurt him, but the dragon was not done. "You'll pay for that demon!" he roared, "But you'll have to wait your turn!" Venomfang's gaping maw descended towards the helpless warrior. Alidorim's vision was filled with teeth and an endless abyss.

A heat swelled within his chest. "_No_!" his mind rebelled.

His arms suddenly shot up and caught the jaws. Venomfang's one remaining eye widened in surprise. He tried to press forward but the Dragonborn held fast.

"As if…" he growled locking gazes with the beast. His claws dug into the scaly flesh. "I'd let you hurt her!" Yulia needed a father to raise her and teach her right from wrong. She needed someone to protect her when she was scared. Her father needed to be there when she needed him most!

Yulia needed him!

Those three little words, the promise Alidorim made, swelled within him. The heat exploded like lightning within his chest. The wrath and fury of the storm coursed through his bones. One leg rose and he was sitting up. The other flexed and he was on his knees. Howling with the determination that put the thunder to shame, the Dragonborn staggered upward.

Alidorim's roar shook the very air as he stood tall still gripping Venomfang by his open jaws. "I won't let you lay a hand on my daughter!"

The storm within him broke and from his mouth exploded a torrent of electrical energy. Venomfang screamed in horror as the Lightning flew from Alidorim and into the beast's gaping mouth. Even as the arcs of blue energy coursed the length of his body, he clawed at the ground desperately trying to pull away. His roars devolved into shrieks of animalistic pain as the lightning burst from his flesh. The warrior held fast pouring everything thing he had into the attack, his sadness, joy, and anger…and his love.


	27. Chapter 26 Cost

**Chapter 26: Cost**

Lesmythe had tried to take Yulia to safety as her master had instructed but the child had slipped out of her grasp. Just when she was about to grab her, Lesmythe was thrown back by the wave of magic thrown out by the girl. She'd heard no incantation, nor spoken spells. Three darts of pure magical energy had erupted from Yulia's hands, even she seemed surprised. Then there was Alidorim's breath weapon…

"He did it," she gasped still trying to grasp what she'd witnessed, "He actually did it."

Venomfang's body twitched and squirmed as it was burned from the inside out. Green scales glowed red before going black. Its natural armor cracked and disintegrated like burnt parchment. The dragon's roars which had brought them to the edge of insanity now set her teeth on edge with their agonized screeching. Soon those shrieks faded. A blackened husk was all that remained of the great green one.

Lesmythe watched in awe and as the Dragonborn-her master-stood over the fallen Venomfang. The last vestiges of his breath weapon crackled and popped along his jaws before disappearing. Alidorim was breathing heavily from the exertion. Battered and bloodied, surrounded by destruction he cast a menacing profile.

"_Who-who is this beast?_"

"Father!?" Yulia's outcry snapped Lesmythe back to the present. The Dragonborn, who'd just been standing victoriously suddenly crumbled to the ground. Instinctively, the half-elf ran to their side. The sight before her alarmed Lesmythe to her core. "You'll be okay, father," Yulia declared clinging to the warrior's limp hand, "Just breathe!" The girl's words rang hollow in the slave's ears. Her mind reeled at the damage to his once-powerful body.

Alidorim lay, swathed in the remains of his shattered armor, eyes squeezed tight. Every inch of exposed flesh was marred by bruises, burns, or cuts. His breathing came in short pained gasps if they came at all. Skin that was normally warm to the touch now felt cold. The ground beneath him was coated in so much blood it stained their clothes.

Lesmythe's hand immediately flew to her slave crest. The mark waxed and waned. Its effect would last only as long as its proprietor lived. With each passing second, her freedom drew closer. All she had to do was wait…

"Father please," Yulia pleaded, squeezing Alidorim's hand, "Please wake up." She pressed her face against his knuckles, not caring that his blood joined the tears streaming down her face. She looked up at Lesmythe, hoping she might have the answers. The half-elf tried to think of something to calm the child, but no words made it past the ache in her throat. Yulia's eyes squeezed tight as more tears dripped to the ground.

A tear ran down Lesmythe's cheek. "_What love is this_…?" she wondered, her heart aching with shame and guilt. Did the Dragonborn not place the brand upon her breast? The same being who used her? Who saw her as a mere possession and not as a person? Was this not the same man that enslaved her?

Her freedom…at long last…after so many years of pain and torture…was within her grasp. "_I can't_…" Lesmythe thought despairingly, "_I-I won't_…" All she had to do was wait…

Alidorim was her owner, true enough. He was also the one who fed and clothed her when he didn't have too. Though he had little to spare he'd had given her medicine to ease her sickness. He'd shattered her manacles and taught her to fight for herself. Alidorim had found worth in her where others had seen a thing to be used and discarded. All to take care of a little girl who had nothing else in this world, but a gruff adventurer to call 'father.'

"Please," Yulia sobbed, "D-don't leave me too…"

Alidorim's chest heaved with a single agonizing breath. His eyes flickered for a moment, and then his body went still. Then, ever so gently, his thumb caressed the Tiefling's cheek. Alidorim had given so much to protect the child. The pain he had endured to ensure she could live on had wrecked his body. Yet in his final moments, all he wanted was to give her one last bit of comfort.

Through the tears and anguish, a small smile formed on Yulia's lips. "I-I love you too…F-f-father."

"_Gods I can't do this_," Lesmythe's mind screamed. The ache in her chest was worse than any pain she'd ever experienced. "_I just can't_…" There must be something they could do, but none of their medicines were strong enough to heal him. They needed something stronger. They needed a miracle…

Looking up at Yulia with glistening hope in her eyes, Lesmythe said, "Stay with him!" And The half-elf stood and ran. "Hold on Master!" Lesmythe called out sprinting back toward the tower. She had no idea what state the ruin was in after the dragon's rampage, but if there was even the slightest chance it was still there, Lesmythe had to try.

The acrid stench for earlier lingered amongst the bodies of the cultists. Each of them lay in similar states; hands clutching at throats, with white foam dripping from their mouths. She bypassed the bodies without a second glance. The leather satchel lay exactly where Alidorim had placed it. Hope sored within her as she found what she sought amongst the gold, silver, and copper. She could only pray it was enough.

"Hold on, master," Lesmythe gasped, "don't leave us."

Alidorim was floating in an impenetrable haze. Blurred shapes and colors swam at the corners of his vision. Every time he tried to focus on them to discern their meaning they faded into the shadows. They resurfaced in his periphery whenever he glanced elsewhere. It was frustrating, like trying to catch smoke.

Somewhere in the darkness, he heard a sound. Like a voice calling out but distance distorted the words. The voice was familiar to him. If Alidorim could just clear his mind of the shapes and colors it might become clearer.

The voice called out again. The Dragonborn still couldn't hear the words but recognized the feminine lilt to them. The tone was also sharper; urgent, concerned, fearful...and sad. Alidorim knew that voice. He'd heard it several times before; in his arms as he soothed her fears, at his back on a long road, and next to him at a campfire.

"Stay with me, father!" came the girl's insistent call. With it came memories. They passed before his eyes faster than a kaleidoscope of stars, while others moved so slow, he could pick out individual details. A trio of arrows striking his torso. Gravity pulling him down a pitfall into darkness. A dwarf swinging a Warhammer towards his head. A reptilian figure hurtling across the mud. An elf's body moving with his. A sword piercing armor followed by a scream of anguish...had that been his scream?

"Father don't go!" her voice cried out, closer now. The memories faded to the back of his mind. Pink light dawned across the horizon of his vision. He was aware of his physical form. Consciousness brought with it the aches and pains; both new and old; physical and emotional. His head felt thick. Then that too faded.

He was floating once more in the haze, colors dancing in the shadows.

"Master! Please hold on!" Another familiar voice called out. A woman's voice. It was so close now. Alidorim felt like he could reach out and touch her, but for some reason, his limbs wouldn't obey. Darkness still swirled at the edges of his vision. The warm embrace of unconsciousness beckoned him. Alidorim wanted nothing more than to rest. He'd been running and fighting for so long... a long rest was exactly what he deserved.


	28. Chapter 27: Return

**Chapter 27: Return **

By no means were Adventurers the same as mercenaries. Mercenaries fought and killed for money regardless of the cause or justification. Adventurers provided a service the same way a carpenter or blacksmith would.

The Guildhall was established in Neverwinter to put citizens in contact with those who possessed the appropriate skills to accomplish a specific job. A guild also ensured the tasks adhered to the city bylaws and ordinances. These jobs ranged from simple transport/delivery to public services. This ensured the cities resources were never overtaxed by private issues. It also provided an outlet for the eager young adventurers that flocked to the coast.

At midafternoon the guildhall wasn't especially crowded. The lunch rush had already left and those that remained were either between quests or had already wrapped one up. Sharing drinks with their guildmates the humans and near-humans regaled each other with their latest exploits.

The woman at the front desk did her best to ignore the stories. After a while, they all sounded the same to her. Instead, she focused on managing the job listings for the next morning. There was no shortage of work along the Sword Coast. It was up to the guild clerks to organize them according to skill requirements and experience levels. As much as it galled the greener members the Guild was strict on which quests were available to whom. Adventurers were a guilds source of income. It did them little good to throw inexperienced copper plates at max level threats.

Of course, that didn't stop them from trying. The census was full of names of the foolhardy who attempted to bite off more than they could chew. "Start from the bottom and work your way up," she would tell them. Usually, her words were met with glares and reluctant sighs. It was with a heavy heart the clerk could tell which ones she would be adding to the census, along with their blood-stained plates.

The door to the hall opened and she felt the warm afternoon sun on her shoulders. Turning she had to shield her eyes to make out the large silhouette crossing the threshold. Stories stopped mid-sentence amidst gasps and the sounds of tomorrow's postings fluttering to the floor.

The figure was tall and broad clad in the remnants of his armor. Here and there crimson scales peaked through layers of fresh bandages. He carried no weapons, but a large bundle was slung across his back wrapped in red-stained burlap. Alone he strolled up to the bulletin board. For a moment he scanned it with his one good eye before ripping down a sheet.

"This job is no longer necessary," he said placing the paper on the counter.

The clerk blinked several times before looking over the document. Posted by the magistrate it was an ongoing request to clear out local ruins of any monsters. A bounty was paid depending on the size and number of beasts exterminated. It was similar to the job of clearing the city sewers, but with several more hazards.

Clearing her throat, the clerk said, "Ahem…Proof of a kill must be provided in order to receive the bount-" before she could finish explaining the Adventurer unslung his burden and dropped in on the desk with a heavy meaty thud. A clawed finger loosened the tie and the burlap fell away.

"By Torm's knob!" someone shouted, but the blasphemy was lost amongst a series of curses and exclamations. The Clerk recoiled, gasping in surprise as a giant reptilian eye rolled in a sunken socket to peer up at her. Its milky white pupil unnerved her nearly as much as its killer's placid expression. She gasped again when she noticed the dented and scarred surface of copper plate dangling from one of his head tendrils.

"How much for a young green dragon," Alidorim Olkith asked.

Lesmythe was still sitting patiently atop the wagon when her Master exited the Guildhall. Yulia barely flinched when he set the bag of coin in the back of the wagon. Curled up amongst the sacks of herbs, the Tiefling had been snoring softly for the last few hours.

The young woman found it difficult to reconcile the magical energies with such a sweet little girl. With Alidorim she had no issue. Though not a dragonkin, the power of their shared lineage flowed through his veins. Despite that power, it had taken him four days to recover from his injuries enough to travel. A healing potion sealed wounds and mended bones, but it could only do so much.

During her master's convalescence, the half-elf hadn't remained idle. With the dragon and most of the undead wiped out, Thundertree was free to explore and plunder. Two coffers of treasure were looted from Venomfang's lair. She even managed to locate the herbs they'd been sent to collect.

Alidorim barely spared the other contents a glance. He paused only to pull Yulia's cloak over her before mounting the wagon. With a flick of the reigns, Lesmythe sent the horses trotting along. They still needed to deliver the herbs. Afterward…

"Master Olkith?" she asked. Alidorim grunted, and she continued, "What comes next?"

"We get paid for the herbs," he answered keeping his eye on the road, and gripping a battle-ax they'd found amongst the loot.

She swallowed nervously. Despite everything they'd been through, the Dragonborn still intimidated her. Other than thanking her for the health potion and tending his wounds, he'd barely said more than a few words the entire trip. Between Yulia's awakened power and realizing he could breathe lightning, Alidorim had a lot to contemplate. Lesmythe could only recall one brief exchange between Yulia and the Master.

Alidorim had asked if Venomfang was truly the same dragon that attacked her village. Though, she managed to suppress it the revelation had shocked the half-elf. Curiously, Yulia had shaken her head. She explained that the green dragon spat poison, but her home was burned. In her fear, she had projected all of her hate and grief on dragons like Venomfang. The girl had begun to weep, but Alidorim knelt and wiped away the tears.

"A dragon killed your parents?" he'd asked tenderly. She began to whimper. Yulia shrugged before managing a small nod. And then he hugged her. In the brief time, she'd known the pair she'd never seen them embrace. Her throat tightened that such a love could exist.

"How does the slave crest work?" Her Master's question took her off guard, bringing her back to the present. After fumbling for a moment Lesmythe essentially parroted what the Slaver had said. If she disobeyed or acted out of disloyalty the curse would activate and cause her pain. Continued rebellion leads to death. Compared to a life of slavery death seemed preferable to bondage, but few could withstand the agony to go all the way. "And if your master were to die?"

Lesmythe's face heated with shame. Recalling her moment of weakness in the village square. "If…the master hadn't made an order to the contrary," she explained, "The curse would be lifted. I would be free."

"Hmm…" Alidorim made no other sound. Lesmythe didn't know what else to say so she remained quiet. They sat in silence for a few more blocks before he finally said, "My life…cost you your freedom."

The half-elf closed her eyes, doing her best to not dwell on what could have been. In so doing all she could see was Yulia's grief-stricken face as she cried over her father, pleading for him not to leave her. The terrible mixture of regret and pride churned in her chest. It was all she could do to not weep. "Yes, Master."

"Hmm…" As before only the sounds of wheels and hooves clattering on cobblestone filled the silence. Nothing else was said until they arrived at the Apothecary.

"Lesmythe." She looked up at the warrior and found his one good eye focused intently upon her. "My name isn't 'Master,'" he said, "My name is Alidorim." His tone was flat, but his gaze was locked with hers. It was the same stare he'd used the night he'd bought her, but there was softness she hadn't noticed before. It was hesitant and fleeting, but it was there.

"Of course, Mas-" She caught herself, ears going pink. Clearing her throat, she amended, "-Alidorim." He nodded before stepping down from the seat.

Moving around to the back of the wagon he roused the Tiefling with a gentle shake. Yulia yawned and stretched before sitting up. "Father?" she questioned, rubbing her dark eyes, "We home?"

Alidorim looked at his daughter with a softness that belayed his scars. "Almost, Yulia. Almost."


	29. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The grey squirrel sat atop his perch near the center of Thundertree, watching the events as they unfurled. The first group of adventurers had ignored his warning and went about ransacking the ruins with little care. They might've been able to fight off the cultists if the undead, giant spiders, and twig blights hadn't worn them down.

For the most part, he'd kept his distance from the monsters and avoided the cultists entirely. The grey squirrel had been content to sit and observe as he had been instructed. After all, it wasn't every day a young green dragon settled so close to a major city.

Then the second group had shown up. They were much more cautious, engaging the undead only when necessary. Their caution hadn't antagonized the blights and so they remained unmolested. He would've warned them about the cultist but the Dragonborn seemed competent, so gray squirrel allowed events to unfold.

He was supposed to be keeping tabs on the dragon, but thus far the 'great green one' had been content to hide away in his improvised lair. The cultists had attempted to appeal to the dragon by offering the first group up as a sacrifice. The memory of the screams still sent a chill down his spine. It seemed they had intended to do the same with the second group.

That was when all hell broke loose. The half-elf and Tiefling had escaped the tower closely followed by Favric. Suddenly the dragon was flying with the Dragonborn clinging to its back. The gray squirrel would've enjoyed watching the spectacle when next he knew his front door was being busted down.

The moment the door burst inward the tiny gray squirrel ducked out of the structure. He paused long enough to watch the Tiefling flee into the village and the half-elf beat Favric to death with a section of the door. The scene had been so slap-stick he laughed. Or he would've if it hadn't turned his stomach.

By the time he got to the weaver's cottage, the warrior was going toe-to-toe with the green dragon. Gray squirrel watched in awe as the Dragonborn came from the brink of defeat to burning the dragon Venomfang from the inside out. He also got to witness the Tiefling's magic missile attack. Grey squirrel practically tittered with excitement.

"_Who knew a boring stakeout mission could be so…amazing...astounding? No, that wasn't the word_," he thought, utilizing his tiny rodent brain to contemplate the proper terminology. "_Oh, where was bard when you needed one!?_" Grey squirrel needed to know the right descriptive term when he met his contact.

Squirrel waited until sunset before scampering away from the village. Despite looking like quite the morsel, none of his natural predators dared approach. The brawl within the village had scared them off a considerable distance.

Reaching the appointed location, grey squirrel bounded into the clearing. Sitting up on his hind leg, his dark eyes peered about, piercing the growing gloom. Tail twitching, he decided all was safe.

A muttered incantation and a flash of light later and where the grey squirrel had sat now stood a gaunt, white-haired human bedecked in green and brown robes. A stag's head crest stood out on his chest. Flexing his back, Reidoth felt it pop several times. The transformation always made him feel his age. At least as an animal he was a bit spryer.

"I prefer you with the tail," a female voice called out. From the shadows, a woman wearing grey ranger garb stepped out. The sigil of a harp cradled by a crescent moon adorned her shoulder. "I overheard the commotion," she said jerking her chin in the general direction of the village.

'Commotion' was a polite way of putting it. More like ruined his piece and quiet. The Emerald Enclave was all about preserving the natural order. Like it or not, dragons were a part of that order, but when one settles so close to the city the Enclave's benefactors got nervous. Reidoth had been the balm for their anxiety.

"Venomfang is no longer concern." Reidoth gave a quick rundown of events. As befitting a member of the Harpers, the woman took the intel in stride with barely a flinch. While the goals of the two groups weren't identical, they did their best to share information.

"The cultists are getting bolder if they're recruiting this close to the city," The woman said rubbering her chin, "The dragon was defeated by a single warrior?"

"A copper-plated adventurer, yes," Reidoth recalled the Dragonborn easily. Physical abilities aside, his strength of will had been…extraordinary. He could make either a staunch ally or a powerful enemy. The Dragon cult wasn't above enlisting rogue Dragonborn to their cause. The woman agreed with the assessment.

"I'll pass it up the chain," she said starting to step back into the shadows. Reidoth also began to leave. Before either of them could disappear entirely she added, "what was the name?"

"I never heard," he responded a little annoyed, "Should be in the Guild registry." Reidoth was just starting the anamorphic spell when the spy interrupted him.

"Not the Dragonborn. The Tiefling."

The old man paused, confused about the sudden interest. Reidoth scanned his memories. He recalled hearing the half-elf and Dragonborn calling out to her several times. Other then her latent magical abilities, he hadn't considered much about her. "Yulia," he answered. Turning the druid intended to ask about the inquiry. All that greeted him was the silence of the night.


End file.
